The Final Year
by PhantomTF
Summary: As expected, Deathly Hallows was all about Harry. We only get fleeting glimpses of what Snape could be doing through the book – a welcome respite from the usual camp-flee-camp routine. This fanfic explores Snape’s final year in Deathly Hallows.
1. The Final Year

The Final Year

Note: Small portions of dialogue are taken directly from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." This dialogue is the creative property of J.K. Rowling and is only used to enhance this particular story. No ownership is claimed and no profit is made from this fanfic.

Severus Snape dropped to his knees, and before the pop of apparition had finished ringing in his ears, he vomited the contents of his stomach onto the brown and dying grass. He sat there, white-faced and trembling, until the clenching of his gut was reduced to dry-heaves. He then wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He had managed to hold his horror and shock at bay for hours now. He barely remembered the desperate flight from Hogwarts, although the taunts of "coward" from the Potter brat were quite vivid. Did the whelp not realize that he had saved his life yet again?! The Death Eaters had been told to not kill the boy, but the less couth among them were infamous for not knowing when to stop. He then had to endure the jubilation of the Dark Lord and his minions. He had played the part of the triumphant yet humble servant, while using his murderous act to further insinuate himself as Voldemort's most trusted advisor.

He sat stock-still for a moment, allowing the full impact of his deed to crash over him. Albus, dead… at his hand. He had killed the one person who truly believed in him. The old man was cunning, manipulative, and irritating to the max, but he had also showed unflagging support for Severus. The man had lived for nearly one and a quarter centuries, and with a flick of his wand, the bright soul had been snuffed out. Never mind the reason; never mind that he was merely carrying out an old man's final wish. The act of murder tore at him all the same.

He pushed the wave of panic and utter despair to the back of his mind and firmly slammed a mental door. There was time enough to give in to his emotional breakdown when he was safely alone at Spinner's End. There remained one final task, and he could not rest until it had been completed.

Glancing around him to make certain that he was not being watched, he exited the unkempt yard and stepped across the street. As if on cue, the two houses of 11 and 13 moved aside to allow Number 12 Grimmauld Place to come into view. Severus was now a Secret Keeper, along with anyone else that Albus had ever shared the secret. The Dark Lord would try to compel him to divulge its location soon, he was certain. Before that happened, he had to make sure that all sensitive documents and information had been removed. Dumbledore had done his best, but with the Order members constantly entering and exiting, something could have easily been left behind.

Steeling his resolve, he pushed open the door and peered inside. He proceeded along the hallway cautiously, guided only by the illuminated tip of his wand. He was relieved to see that the place remained relatively undisturbed since the last Order meeting. He was certain that Moody would cook up something nasty for him, so he had to hurry.

Snape moved from room to room, ransacking drawers and closets and taking little care to conceal his presence. If the Order realized that he had come and gone, so be it. If they had a single ounce of sense, they would no longer use this place as a safe house.

His lip curled as he stepped in to Sirius Black's old bedroom. The place was dingy and dusty. He shook his head at the luxurious surroundings gone to seed. Snape had had very little in regard to material possessions growing up, and his mother had used expansion charms on his clothes until they disintegrated. Leave it to the wealthy to waste the bounties that they had at their fingertips. Although in this case, the last Black scion had been in Azkaban and couldn't exactly keep up with the housework. That batty house elf had nothing else to do but clean, but Merlin knows what the creature (Kreatur, ha!) did instead. He was glad that the house elf was currently at Hogwarts instead of getting in the way at the Black house. Pictures of the very young Marauders made faces and rude gestures to him. Severus smiled cruelly. It wasn't as if they had fared very well in life. Pity he couldn't destroy the photo and thus the evidence of such smarmy past camaraderie. He sneer was also directed toward the nubile young Muggles in bathing suits. How utterly pedestrian.

He pushed aside a mound of books and unearthed a sheaf of papers. He rifled through them and then froze, a handful of pages spilling from his grasp. He recognized that handwriting. His heart pounding, he held aloft the final page of Lily's letter. Love, it said. Her love.

His steely control, which he had held in an unrelenting grip for what seemed like forever, shattered. He fell to his knees as if he was a marionette whose strings had been cut. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed off the tip of his hooked nose. He'd have given anything, anything, to hear those words from her. And here she was, giving her affections away cheaply in a hurried scrawl of her pen. Lily had rotten choice in friends: a bully, an accused murderer, a werewolf, and a cowardly traitor. But he'd known that already – she'd befriended him, hadn't she?

There was a photograph enclosed. He held it reverently by his fingertips. She threw her head back and laughed in merriment as her infant son zoomed around the room and her husband joyfully gave chase. Snape's heart twisted. He could never have made her happy. It killed him to see her bestowing such radiance on someone so utterly undeserving. He grasped the photograph and roughly ripped it in two, casting aside the half that held the males. His conscience twinged, and he crushed the feeling brutally. Yes, this was likely one of the few family pictures that existed. Yes, it was probably wrong to rip asunder the representation of a family that had already been turn apart. But he had suffered too much to care. He needed Lily's happy face to survive the coming year. In a weak gesture of appeasement, he vowed to leave the picture fragment to the Potter boy in his will. The Granger chit would know a good repair spell.

He slipped the photo fragment and letter page bearing Lily's love into his pocket. His hand remained inside, touching the talismans as he exited the house and Apparated to Spinner's End. He promptly stripped off his clothes, collapsed on his bed, and curled around his pillow, weeping bitterly.

Dumbledore had never failed to amaze Snape with his powers of perception and deep understanding of human nature, likely dotted with the usage of Legilimency. The man seemed to have an almost precognitive sense of events. The late Headmaster had surmised that Snape would be hand-selected by Voldemort himself to become head of Hogwarts. Severus was not nearly so confident that this would come to past, so he had spent the previous year packing and organizing his personal belongings. Death had been a very real possibility, and he had wanted to be prepared. As the end of the school year drew nigh, he had cast protective spells on his office and private quarters that sealed them until either his death or his return to the school. This way he could be certain that, in the event of his survival, none of his effects would be tampered with.

Albus had realized that the other professors would obviously seek to bar the Potions master-cum-DADA professor from the school. Before his death, he had charmed all of the secret passages to admit Severus. The school was almost alive through thousands of years of magic cast within its walls and protective enchantments cast by the Headmasters of yore. Snape was extremely nervous and had cast a Disillusionment charm on himself as a precaution, but he had no problem entering the school and making his way to the Headmaster's office. The school seemed virtually deserted, but it never hurt to be too careful. He was relieved to see that nothing in Dumbeldore's office had been disturbed. If Albus was to be believed, this office would soon be his, and he would have need of the various instruments in this room.

After a few moments of Snape's angry hissing, Albus' portrait woke up from his slumber. "Severus, my boy!" he exclaimed joyfully. Snape had always hated that diminutive familiarization, but today it was incredibly soothing. He hadn't realized how much he missed the old man until now. "How have you been? You look rather the worse for wear. I do hope everything has gone according to plan."

The Headmaster's death – the flash of green light, the body sailing through the air – flashed before his eyes, and Severus swallowed heavily. He forced the image from his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. "If you recall, you had likened the inevitability of your death to the Chudley Cannons finishing last. You may be interested to know that they had a fairly good showing that season." Dumbledore twinkled merrily. For his part, Severus was not amused. Fortunately, he had been at home when he had heard the news, for he had lost all control and flung his shabby belongings in a tearful rage.

They held several clandestine meetings, during which Dumbledore pressed Snape to deliver the correct details of Harry's departure and to plant the suggestion in Mundungus Fletcher's mind of using decoys. Snape also bore the bad news of the death of several friends and colleagues, including the murder of Charity Burbage. It had been awful to witness her death. She pleaded with him for mercy, for him to save her. How he hated it! Couldn't the victims see that he could not save them, that they were beyond saving? He hated himself for his inaction, and he hated them for asking for something that he could not give. Albus had driven home to him time and again that nothing was more important than defeating Voldemort; nothing was more important than protecting Potter. Even if he must watch thousands die and pile by his feet as he affected disinterest, even if each death chipped away at his soul, he must not act. This would be a painful lesson that he prayed that Potter would learn: sometimes the hardest thing to do was nothing.

Severus found himself reflecting on exactly that topic as he joined a cluster of Death Eaters lurking a short way from Little Whinging. The neat house of Potter's relatives lay just a short distance away, though out of sight. He breathed a silent prayer that all would go as planned. He could not bear to watch any more deaths, though he knew full well that many more lay on the horizon and it would be impossible to get through this night without someone losing their life.

Cries of excitement rose as a several figures suddenly took to the skies. Snape looked up and felt a giddy rush of relief. They had used Mundungus' suggestion of doubles, which would greatly increase their chances of success. As he dutifully rose to give chase, he was further impressed by the various means of conveyance that the Order had chosen. Unsurprisingly, the Dark Lord had chosen to follow the Potter that was accompanied by Mad-Eye. Judging from the way the boy was squirming, it was definitely not the real Potter. In turn, Bellatrix set her sights on Tonks, who was accompanying another doppelganger. Severus was honestly not sure which Potter could be real. He cast a thoughtful eye toward the motorbike streaking across the starry sky. Hagrid had a kind heart, but he also had a knack for inadvertently ruining the best-laid plans. It would be tantamount to disaster to put Harry with such an oaf. Then again, it would be the last thing that the Death Eaters would expect.

Several of his colleagues were watching him closely, knowing full well that he had been closest to the boy and was in the best position to determine which was the correct Potter. He jumped aboard a broom and began following Lupin. Lupin was a good choice for protecting the real Potter – good at Defense, quick-witted, brave and reliable (read: boring and foolhardy). Severus would do his part to surreptitiously protect the boy, and even if this was not the true Potter, at least he would be secretly acting to save someone's life.

The breeze was refreshing as it whipped his robes, blowing away the heat that had accumulated during the day. Lupin and 'Potter' engaged in some skillful defensive magic during their flight. It was obvious that both were at home on a broom. Their broom zigged and zagged, trying to throw off their pursuer's aim. Severus had a hard time casting some unobtrusive Shielding and Deflecting charms, but at least the duo was doing well enough to stay safe even without his help. As Snape sped up, he felt his hood slip from his face. Although he could not hear anything from the wind in his ears, he was certain that their quarry had recognized him. They picked up even more speed – all the better, for it would get them to safety faster.

He felt his heart stop beating for a paralyzing moment. A Death Eater abruptly veered ahead of him and raised his wand, directing a curse squarely at Lupin's exposed back. The Potter seemed handy with a broom; he could no doubt fly even after Lupin's demise. But it was not a risk that Snape was ready to take. If he could save Lupin's life as well as the possible-Potter, then so much the batter.

"Sectumsempra!" he yelled, aiming for the hand of his fellow Death Eater that held the menacing wand. But at that instant the broom changed course and the Death Eater adjusted his own pursuit, causing the devastating spell to instead brush across the side of Potter's head. Snape swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat. On the side of the boy's head was a neat hole that was rapidly filling with blood. The hemorrhage soon engulfed the entire head, and Lupin was hard-pressed to keep flying while trying to staunch the wound.

Oh god… he now fervently hoped that this was not the real Potter, sprawled across the broom and rapidly losing blood. He had dedicated twenty years of his life to protecting the ungrateful brat, and to see the life of someone bearing his face fading away was absolutely wrenching. 'Lily… oh Lily, what have I done? I've failed, Albus. I've failed to protect the boy.'

His compatriots cheered and loudly congratulated him. Infinitely glad for the mask concealing his face, Severus fought for composure before replying. Just then, a commotion amongst the Death Eaters distracted them long enough for the broom to continue on the road to safety. "They've found him! The real Potter!" one exclaimed.

"But the Dark Lord's orders were clear!" another argued. "These are still Order members and must be hunted down!" And so the hunt continued. Yet the Death Eaters felt that the sport had been rather diminished by the knowledge that they were not chasing the true prize, and a wounded foe was providing less entertainment than a healthy one. They still gave Lupin and "Potter" a hard chase, and Snape was starting to quietly panic when he suddenly hit an invisible brick wall. The other Death Eaters cursed and raged as the broom landed in a backyard. The door flew open and a figure gestured, while Lupin dragged the comatose Potter double inside. A few minutes later, a flash illuminated the windows. Severus breathed huge silent sigh of relief. They were safe. Reports from the other parties indicated that the remaining Order members, including the true Harry, had also escaped. All except Moody. Snape did not waste time mourning his death – the grizzled Auror went the way he would have wanted. He shared as little as possible about that awful night with Dumbledore's portrait, but Albus could tell that it had been dreadful just the same.

Snape had affected surprised and gratitude when Voldemort announced his perhaps inevitable decision to designate Severus as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Pius Thicknesse would be the one to announce the appointment publically, in order to keep up appearances. At least Snape could come and go within the castle as he pleased, and no one would question his long periods spent in the Headmaster's office. He gave some ridiculous interview full of the usual tripe to the Daily Prophet, which would no doubt extol his dubious virtues to the heavens. He laughed bitterly as he flipped through the issues from the past few months. Not only was Severus now a venerated Headmaster, but Potter had been fingered as a "person of interest" in the death of Albus Dumbledore. He had to hand it to Voldemort; the man (he shuddered; the Dark Lord no longer resembled anything human in body or spirit) certainly knew how to turn the tide of public opinion.

The night before he returned to Hogwarts to assume his new position, he respectfully addressed his master. "I know that Lucius has displeased you, My Lord. Yet he has been a loyal follower for many years. He remained true to your ideals when others had forsaken you. Has he not offered his manor as your personal headquarters? He yearns to be in your favor once more. In your infinite wisdom, please grant him the right to use a wand once more. There are many so-called Muggleborns," he sneered, "who no longer need theirs. It would be a step down in the world for Malfoy, but at least he will be able to fend for himself." Severus had liked to call Lucius a strutting peacock, after the fowl that roamed the manor grounds. In fact, that would be the perfect Animagus form for the preening man. Yet it chagrined Snape to see his proud friend brought so low.

Voldemort chuckled, the sound a death rattle in his throat. Snape fought to keep his expression neutral. "Ah, Severus. It is you who are my loyal follower, you who have pleased me beyond any other by your years of faithful service and the deeds that you carry out in my name. What is Lucius to me? He and his family have disappointed me time and again. If Malfoy can again prove himself useful to me, I will force the old wand-maker to craft him a new one. Until then, he will have to depend upon the goodwill of others. Even a second-hand wand from a mudblood is too good for him."

Severus bowed low. "My Lord is wise in this, as in all things. Perhaps Lucius will be a better servant for his newfound humility."

Snape was concerned for the well-being of Draco as well. Ever since his father's incarceration, Draco had been sullen and rebellious toward him, believing (quite rightly, as it turned out) that Severus had become Voldemort's favorite in his father's absence. Lucius recognized that he had been supplanted during his stint in Azkaban but did not blame Severus entirely for becoming Voldemort's natural second. Snape had nothing to do with Voldemort's resentment toward the Malfoys. Lucius and Narcissa alike were extremely grateful for his protection of Draco in the aftermath of Dumbledore's murder. He assumed that they had tried to talk some sense into the boy, with little result. However, despite whatever resentment Draco may have felt toward him, he seemed strangely reluctant to have Snape leave for the school. Severus reassured the young man as best he could, reminding him that he too would soon be at Hogwarts.

Snape was never one to notice the habits of house elves, but when one of the creatures reported the extended absence of Kreacher, he was immediately on alert. He sent Phineas to check on the happenings at Grimmauld place. The former headmaster soon returned to his frame in Snape's office, reporting that his other portrait seemed to be encased in darkness. He thought he heard voices but they were muffled. Snape didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted. Despite the death of its Secret-Keeper, the former Order headquarters was still quite secure… as long as Snape himself chose not to visit. Really, there was nothing stopping him from going there right now and slaughtering the squatters in their beds. Mad-Eye may have been a formidable wizard (despite his loathing, Severus was rather disappointed to learn of his death), but Snape doubted that anything Moody could come up with would contain him for long. Dumbledore had strengthened the protections around the Black's ancestral home so that simply telling of the location would not suffice, as it had in the past. No one could enter the safehouse unless a person who was already privy to the secret was in physical contact. Thus, Severus had been able to reveal the location of Grimmauld Place to his master without fear that the Death Eaters could enter. Believing that Moody had barred Snape from entering, they set up a vigil outside nonetheless, but very little of interest caught their eye.

All too soon, the August heat began to cool and the school came to life with the return of the faculty and staff. This was the moment that Severus had been dreading. It was not possible to go on as they had before. The other professors may have not been overly fond of him, but they had at least accepted him as a fellow teacher and academic. Some had made more overt gestures of friendship, but he was quite firm in maintaining his distance. With his line of work, he did not dare become close to anyone. He had spent the previous year in silent agony, wondering each time as he sat in the staff room engaging in idle chitchat if it would be his last, and how horrified his colleagues would be if they knew the awful deed that Albus had sworn him to commit. As bad as the previous year had been, this one promised to be ten times worse.

He observed quietly as the professors trickled in to resume their posts. He himself had had mixed feelings about returning each fall – it was certainly better than staying him the hovel of his childhood home, but he couldn't help but feel trapped in a never-ending cycle of teaching ungrateful brats who did their best to undermine his authority. It was hard to believe that just last year, he too had been removing the preservation and dust-repellant charms from his quarters and putting his office and classroom in order. Each professor was required to submit a lesson plan for approval by the Headmaster before the start of term. It was rarely more than just a formality, since the professors were longtime fixtures at the school and their plans were more than adequate. Still, the teachers delayed their required visit to him, which gave him a feeling of dark amusement. He could not blame them for their reticence, but he did feel satisfaction at bending their will to his own.

So they came, reluctantly but inevitably, with hate written in the blaze of their eyes and the firm line of their pressed lips. Slughorn surprised Snape by being the first to visit. Severus had expected Horace to avoid the confrontation as long as possible. The new Headmaster greeted his former professor and Head of House with a curt nod and a gesture to the seat across from his desk. Slughorn sat but was unsuccessful at hiding an outraged glare. Severus allowed himself to enjoy a momentary thrill of cruel satisfaction. Yes, I have surpassed you, old man. I have killed your old friend and usurped his position. I now have the power to dictate your teaching methods and override your decisions as Head of Slytherin. Now let's see what you intend to do about it.

"How was the International Potions Symposium this year?"

"I didn't go," Slughorn said stiffly. "Traveling is no longer as safe as it once was. Ordinary law-abiding citizens such as myself seem to suffer more trouble than necessary." Severus ignored the veiled barb: if Slughorn was law-abiding, then Snape was definitely not.

"I also did not attend. My new responsibilities have kept me quite busy."

"I'm certain they have," the once-and-again head of Slytherin replied, his cold tone fairly dripping with icicles.

Snape turned his head dismissively and returned to studying Slughorn's lesson plans. Horace stiffened, correctly interpreting the slight. "You've got the second-years slated to learn the boil cure potion? That's a rather elementary potion that first-years are capable of grasping. Although I swear that the dunderheads get more insipid every year."

"Not everyone is like you, Severus."

Severus smirked. He enjoyed trading barbs with a fellow Slytherin. Ah, that comment had so many layers of meaning; each of them insulting. "For which the Wizarding world is grateful, I'm sure." He scribbled a quick signature and returned the syllabus unchanged. "I cannot blame you for wanting to keep things simple. I certainly don't miss the whiny brats trying to explode my classroom. Just be grateful that you don't have to teach Longbottom – the boy somehow manages to set fire to water."

"I have met Neville Longbottom. He's a fine lad."

"You're welcome to him," he sneered. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have other pressing matters that need my attention." He did not look up as the portly professor extricated himself from his chair with a wordless exclamation of indignation. The door slammed a moment later.

With a scant few days remaining until the start of term, he called a staff meeting. It was an eerie feeling to be calling the shots and to take his place at the head of the staff table. He savored as much of it as he could. He had power, even if he did not have respect. The usual servings of tea and scones were laid out, but few attendees had any appetite.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Severus said in his soft yet dangerous voice. The professors looked at him with barely-disguised anger and disgust. "You have no doubt noticed the recent changes in the Ministry. Although I have little love for the former Professor Umbrige, she is correct that Hogwarts cannot remain mired in the stagnation of the past. There will be no need for educational decrees or a High Inquisitor. Nonetheless, things will change." He stared forcefully at his former fellow professors, who drew back. "You are already aware of several changes that have taken place. Naturally, my promotion to Headmaster can be counted amongst those changes. We also have two new professors this year. Alecto Carrow will replace the retired Charity Burbage as Professor of Muggle Studies, and her brother Amycus will assume the vacated Defense Against the Dark Arts post." The new professors nodded briefly at the introduction. The other professors exchanged glances, clearly hoping that the curse over the position would continue to work its magic this year. "Both have come highly recommended by the Ministry, and I am certain that you will welcome them as warmly as you have me." In other words; they, like Snape, had been hand-picked by Voldemort to keep Hogwarts in line.

"The appointment of these two new professors leads me to the next change in policy. Discipline and detentions will no longer be managed by individual professors or Heads of House. Instead, all offenders will be turned over to the Carrows for appropriate punishment." There was a collection of horrified gasps as heads swiveled to look at the siblings. The two grinned and looked positively delighted with the prospect of unruly children to punish. "Mister Filch has provided me with a very lengthy list of contraband items. I have made copies of these lists. It is the responsibility of the Heads of House to post these lists in a conspicuous area of your respective common rooms. Possession of any items on this list will result in punishment."

He sat back in his chair, stretched out his long black-clad legs, and smirked. He hadn't asked for this job, but he had to admit it had a sort of perverse appeal at times. At last he could keep the insolent brats in line. If they expected him to pat them on the head and offer them a sherbet lemon, they were in for a very unpleasant surprise. As for Filch, the man was disappointed that he would no longer be supervising detention, but the promise of retribution for possessing any item on his list was enough to satisfy. He heralded Severus Snape as akin to Merlin. Severus would take whatever approbation he could get.

The other professors no longer even bothered to conceal their outrage. Flitwick spluttered, his face turning red. Sprout clutched her teacup with trembling hands until it shattered. McGonagall repaired the teacup and dried her colleague's damp robes with a quick swish of her wand. They seemed grateful for the momentary distraction.

Severus sneered at the disruption. "I must also remind you that the deadline for syllabus approval is fast approaching. Everything must be in place before the arrival of students and start of term. Most of you have been prompt but several," he looked pointedly at McGonagall, "have been remiss. Needless to say, any professor without an approved syllabus will not be permitted to teach." The assembled teachers looked around the table nervously, staring at McGonagall in particular with trepidation. What was she trying to prove? The elderly witch lifted her chin and stared at the young Headmaster with quiet defiance. He favored her with a condescending smirk. Let her play her power game. He knew that she would not risk her job or the safety of her students on pointless grandstanding.

Nevertheless, Severus was surprised when the Gryffindor Head of House delayed until only a few scant hours before the Welcoming Feast. He raised an eyebrow as she swept through the door, sheaves of paper clutched in a white-fisted hand. She tossed them on his desk as if they disgusted her. He gestured grandly toward the seat, but she sniffed and pointedly ignored it. He raised a sardonic eyebrow. Yes, he knew perfectly well the true target of her disgust. He gathered the scattered papers and quickly scanned through their contents. As expected, her proposed courses were excellent. On the other hand, the Carrows' syllabi had been abominable. He had ended up making numerous edits, and banned some of the most graphic or radical ideas. Reading their proposals had considerably disturbed both his mood and appetite, and on that day he had refused to take any more visitors.

His lips twitched when he reached the final page. "Employ any other ideas and concepts as necessary." Trust Minerva to try to build in a loophole. He quickly modified the statement to include "as related to Transfiguration, and only with verbal or written consent of the Headmaster." Really, she shouldn't have even tried. Did she think should outfox the fox?

Once that small change had been made, he signed the document with a flourish and filed it. McGonagall did not look the least bit taken aback at the edit, but she did seem surprised at the speed of his approval. "I imagine that all is order, then?" she said archly.

"Indeed. I do not intend to quibble over the teaching methods of such a longstanding faculty member. I am quite sure that your lesson plans are more than adequate."

"That was not your opinion when you were my student. As I recall, you were adamant that the Animus potion was better than transfiguring objects into life. I have yet to see a single potion that is superior to the capabilities of transfiguration."

"This coming from a woman who can't tell the difference between a babbling beverage and the Drought of the Living Death."

Minerva nearly smiled, until she remembered exactly how Severus had won his present role. The Heads of House had gotten along surprisingly well in the past, considering the contrary natures of their houses (and of Snape himself). But the time of casual jocularity and goodwill had now passed. "Tell me, Severus. Would you have dismissed me from my position if I had not turned in my syllabus on time?"

Severus eyed her. "I would have certainly prevented you from teaching your classes. And if you had delayed much longer than a few days, I would not have many options left to me. Surely you understand that the students are here to get an education, and I cannot let their education suffer while you are off making a pointless stand. I have no desire to replace you, but I will always do what is best for the school and its students. I am certain that your goals are similar, so I advise to not deviate from them."

She pressed her lips into a firm line until they grew pale. "In other words, I shouldn't do anything to rock the boat. Charity made the mistake of voicing her opinions. I don't buy for a minute that she abruptly decided to resign. What has happened to her? I'm certain that you know."

Snape set his jaw, causing a muscle to twitch. "Professor Burbage's retirement is rather… permanent."

McGonagall blanched. "You're a monster," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied softly, his expression blank. She stalked out of the office and slammed the door. The Headmaster sat for several long minutes without moving. That was every bit as unpleasant as he had expected. If he could pick only one person to safely confide in, it would have been Minerva. She was not frivolous, silly or giggly; she knew the value of rules and punished transgressors, albeit too lightly for his taste. When he had become a professor just scant years after graduating, she had begun inviting him to tea, ostensibly to sort through inter-House problems. He had suspected Dumbledore of putting her up to it, but whatever her original motivation, their meeting had gone well enough to make it a regular habit. He had been careful to savor their last tea at the end of term, knowing that it would be their last.

He prepared for the Welcome Feast with unusual care, actually washing his hair twice and soaping his hands with a harsh abrasive. He filed his fingernails and clipped his toenails, cursing all the while. He wore his usual black clothing but tonight he finished his look with a rich velvet green cloak. Lucius would no doubt be gratified to know that his past Christmas gift would be put to good use. Finally, he brushed his now shiny hair and tied it back with a green ribbon. The mirror whistled appreciatively, and he gave it a rude gesture. Although he'd never be considered anything approaching handsome, he looked about as good as he could get. Apparently he didn't clean up too badly when he made a bit of effort. Normally he couldn't be arsed (who cared about impressing whiny brats, after all?), but tonight he wanted to make an impression.

He deliberately delayed until the professors had taken their seats and the returning students had been ushered into the Great Hall. McGonagall was gathering the Firsties into a group as they clumsily climbed out of the boats. Merlin, how he wished the Squid was carnivorous. He normally slipped in through the door by the head table, wishing to avoid as many people as possible, but not tonight. He swept impatiently past the latest crop of babies, smirking inwardly in satisfaction as a tiny girl screamed and jumped backward. Hufflepuff, he prayed.

The Slytherins roared with approval, leaping to their feet and applauding madly. He spared them a single imperious nod and a small self-satisfied smirk. It was nice to see someone excited about his promotion. At long last, Slytherin House was on top. It almost made up for the low boos that issued from the moronic Gryffindors or the ill-disguised looks of disapproval from his faculty. He walked to the head table with as much dramatic flair as he could manage, thoroughly enjoying himself as he settled into the large throne-like chair reserved for the Headmaster.

Once Minerva had ensured that all was in readiness, she gestured with her wand and the doors to the Great Hall once again swung open, this time admitting the hoard of students to be Sorted. Most of them were First-years, but some were older students that had been home-schooled. He adopted a stern expression as was pleased to see some of the more nervous rugrats flinch. Yes, he still had it.

Fortunately, it did not take long to Sort the muchkins. As each child took his or her seat at a House table, the upperclassmen whispered loudly and pointed in Snape's general direction. The subsequent expression of fear and horror expressed by the new students was quite gratifying. How kind of the other students to educate the newbies. It made Snape's job of intimidation that much easier. He needed the students to hate and fear him more than ever before. Their wretched little lives depended on it, as did his. When the Sorting was complete, McGonagall reluctantly took her seat at his right hand. Severus had insisted on keeping her as Deputy Headmistress, though he made it quite evident that she no longer had any real power. He refused to entrust the Hogwarts letters or other Deputy duties to either of the Carrows.

The usual obnoxious din of chattering students began to rise but petered off as soon as the Headmaster rose to his feet. He spoke in an ominously quiet tone, and the few straggling yappers immediately fell silent or were kicked by savvier and smarter housemates. Years of Potions classes had trained them well. "Welcome to Hogwarts, both to our new students and upperclassmen alike. For those who do not know me, I am Headmaster Snape, former professor of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as former Head of Slytherin House. A great many changes have occurred since the elder students last walked these halls. Foremost is my appointment as Headmaster." At this statement, the Slytherin table exploded with load cheers and whistles. They jumped to their feet and applauded wildly. Some stamped their feet, while a few other brave souls did a celebratory jig on the tabletop. Slughorn looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. A few Gryffindors dared to boo him once more, but they were drowned out by the joyful cacophony. His former charges began to chant "Snape! Snape!" as they pounded on the table. Severus felt an unaccustomed rush of affection for his snakelings. Bless their conniving little hearts.

He allowed them to carry on for a few minutes. Merlin knew that they'd had precious little to celebrate in the seven years since blasted Potter had arrived. Attention-seeking, Quidditch-cup-stealing, impudent little… anyway, the Slytherins were entitled to their day in the sun. He made a few transparently feeble attempts to calm them, and then when he'd judged they'd had enough he raised his hand. Abrupt silence reigned. "Thank you for that warm reception," he said, as if three-fourths of the room hadn't wanted to hang him from the rafters by his intestines. He could feel the gaze of his faculty members searing into his back. If looks could kill…. He had a bizarre urge to laugh hysterically at their helpless frustration. Now they would know how it felt to be trapped in an unbearable situation.

"We have some additional changes in faculty this year. Since we also have a fair amount of new students, I request that each professor rise and introduce him- or herself." He gestured to the far left of the room. Trelawney stared vacantly at the wall until Professor Vector gave her a nudge, causing her to yelp. A smattering of snickers and giggles erupted as she clumsily climbed to her feet at Vector's prompting. "I… am Professor Trelawney….. I… teach Divination. I will help remove the veil between the past and the future and reveal the truth to the inner eye!" Her initial uncertainty over, she seemed ready to launch into a lesson. Vector now had to pull her back down into her seat and rise in turn. The introductions were fairly uneventful, although it was mildly entertaining to see Hagrid struggling to get out of his seat. Flitwick stood on his chair and then levitated himself high enough for the students to see him, which earned a few cheers. There was a lot of hushed whispering as the Carrows introduced themselves. No one seemed particularly happy to see them.

As soon as the introductions had been completed, Severus turned away from the professors dismissively to once again address the student body. "As I have mentioned, there are a number of very important changes that have occurred. The first has to do with disciplinary measures. There will be no more—." He broke off abruptly as a spitball was launched from the Gryffindor table, flying squarely toward his forehead. He did not stir or make any motion toward his wand. Yet the spitball burst into flames midair and fell to the ground, blazing furiously. The silence was palpable as everyone stared at Snape in fear. Even the professors looked taken aback. Wandless magic was nothing new, but it was the sign of a particularly powerful wizard.

Severus murmured silkily, "Professors Carrow, if you will." The siblings simultaneously drew their wands and pointed them at the perpetrator. The boy screamed as deep gouges appeared on his hands and arms, bleeding profusely. A sardonic smirk appeared on Snape's face, and the students actually cowered. "Thank you for offering yourself as an object lesson, Mister McLaggen. If you had bothered to listen to the rest of my speech, you would have known about the change in disciplinary action. Punishment of disobedient students has been transferred from individual professors and Heads of House to our new professors, the Carrow siblings. They have been given license directly from the Ministry to execute whatever punishment they deem necessary." He glared at the wounded student. "I suggest you all keep that in mind before wreaking your usual havoc. Mister Filch's list of proscribed items has reached epic lengths, and possession of any one of these items will be punished." His voice took on a dangerous edge. "I will not offer you sweets and a pat on the head if you run afoul of the rules. Most of you know that I have no sympathy or lenience toward rule-breakers. The rest of you will learn that lesson very quickly. But if you study hard and do as you are told, then you should have nothing to fear." His cold, merciless gaze swept through the crowd. Most of the student body was frozen in horror. A few first years were trying to cry as unobtrusively as possible. He locked eyes with Neville Longbottom, and to his utter astonishment, the boy held his gaze. There was something hard in the boy's eyes, and his jaw was set determinedly. A very interesting development.

Snape clapped his hands, and the tables were abruptly filled with overflowing plates of aromatic and succulent dishes, cooked by the ever-overzealous House-elves. The students had to be starving, yet the disturbing occurrence during Snape's speech had robbed them of their appetite. Even the Slytherins, who knew they had little to fear, seemed much less exuberant than earlier. The house elves had not served the Headmaster, since Severus intended to keep a very close eye on his charges during their first meal. Presenting an intimidating front from the beginning, he had learned, would save him a lot of effort in the future.

When the meal had come to a close, he dismissed the faculty and students alike with a curt wave of his hand. He spared a glance toward the Slytherin Head Boy, who gave him a subtle nod in return. Severus had his own little speech that he liked to deliver to the First Years. Slughorn may have been Head of Slytherin House for many prior years, but Snape felt that his style left much to be deserved. Once the old man had retired for the night, the Head Boy would deliver Snape's usual message. Other houses sought to tear them down. It was only through intra-house unity that they would survive and thrive. Now that Severus was Headmaster, Slytherin House would have a fighting chance.

He was prepared for dissent. He was prepared for passive-aggressive resistance. After all, it was a tactic that he himself was fond of employing. But he had somehow underestimated the combined will of the students and professors against his regime. The brats simply refused to take his advice to lay low and not call attention to themselves. In turn, Severus cracked down. Taking a page from Umbridge's book, he disbanded any clubs that had not received his specific permission to form. It would hardly be the death knell of Dumbledore's Army, but it would certainly give the wretches less opportunity to meet. He was secretly gratified to know that there were students willing to fight in Dumbledore's name, but their reckless and destructive nature drove him to distraction. He knew they had a way of passing messages to each other, a means that was far more sophisticated than their tiny brains could allow. And what did they do? Did they lie low and look for a way to fight the good fight? No, they defaced school property with their garish graffiti. He responded by making "Dumbledore" the password to his office. It was rather grimly amusing to watch the professors turn purple. Slughorn had caused him a few moments of concern when the man nearly had a coronary. In true Snape style, he had hidden his true motives in plain sight. The others would assume that Snape was mocking the man that he had murdered and whose position he had usurped. The Carrows had had a long laugh over it. None would even dare to think that Severus was in fact declaring his true loyalty.

Minerva, in amazing impertinence, actually asked him to provide funding to replace the Quidditch brooms for Gryffindor House. He took great pleasure in turning her down flat… with a smile that noticeably disturbed the normally stoic Gryffindor. "But Slytherin got new brooms only a few years ago, while Gryffindor's brooms haven't been replaced in nearly fifteen years!"

"You have a very convenient memory, Minerva. Although Gryffindor had received budgetary funds twice for replacement brooms since I was a student, somehow there never seemed to be enough money to replace Slytherin brooms. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had their brooms replaced once in that timeframe. Our brooms were literally falling apart mid-air, although Potter somehow managed to receive two state-of-the-art brooms from unknown benefactors which gave him an unfair edge over the competition. Fortunately, Lucius Malfoy is a philanthropist and recognized our dire need. It was very kind of him to donate new brooms with funds out of his own pocket."

"With the addition of Mister Malfoy to the team as repayment!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Severus looked oddly satisfied. "Indeed. Slytherins understand the value of a favor. It is more reliable currency than the unevenly-distributed House budget. Come to think of it, the wall in the Slytherin Common Room needs shoring up again. This time, perhaps we should perform some proactive maintenance, instead of waiting for the infrastructure to crumble and allow the lake to flood the dungeon again." McGonagall pursed her lips in disapproval. Snape was indeed experiencing schadenfreude, now that the shoe was on the other foot.

All too soon, the air took on a fall chill and the colorful leaves began to fall from the trees. Timidly, a few pumpkins and bats began to decorate the castle, as if afraid of their very right to exist. Severus was notorious for his hatred of holidays. Christmas? Bah humbug! Valentine's Day? Vomit. Halloween had been one of the holidays that he had actually enjoyed. As a child, he had relished wearing his robes out of doors and performing simple magic tricks. But Halloween had been forever soured for him. While others had celebrated the downfall of the Dark Lord and the survival of the Boy Who Lived in years past, Severus had spent the day in mourning. Even now, the pain of Lily's death and his implicit failure haunted him. If he snarled and snapped more as the deadly day approached, it was chalked up to his usual surly nature. Severus spent the day in question sitting slumped in his office chair with his head in his hands. Fortunately there were few disturbances that day, and the students profited from his absence by celebrating quietly.

The respite was short-lived. The students redoubled their efforts to make his life miserable. They were a complete nuisance, but their actions endangered themselves more than irritating Snape. Still, their rebellious actions made him furious. The moronic hooligans defaced the castle and flaunted their disobedience, only to be slapped into submission by the Carrows. Although he was Headmaster, the Carrows ultimately reported to Voldemort so Severus did not have much control over their disciplinary measures. Nevertheless, he dropped hints that it was not best to use the Cruciatus curse on pureblood children who may prove valuable to the Dark Lord. The Carrows instead amused themselves with cutting and bruising their charges. They also built lessons on the Cruciatus curse and forced the students to apply it as a punishment to their classmates. Severus was nauseated by the concept but felt that it was preferable to letting the Carrows apply the curse. Although he despised allowing the students to learn such a dark Unforgiveable, at least they would be more inept at torture than the Carrows. He was saddened but not particularly surprised to learn that the moron twins of Crabbe and Goyle chose that area to excel.

Although their method of communication continued to elude him, Severus was able to quickly isolate the ringleaders of the rebellion. He was not at all surprised by the Weasley girl. She had always had a rather saucy attitude. Must be all the red hair. Lovegood, however, was a bit of a surprise. She had always acted like a spaceshot, though she had some startlingly accurate insights that intrigued him. There had to be a reason that she was Sorted into Ravenclaw. But the biggest surprise proved to be Neville Longbottom. The cowering, quivering boy who quaked during Potions and was always losing his frog had been replaced by a confident and resolute demeanor. Longbottom was turning into a Potter clone in his flaunting of authority. It was not a change that he approved of.

He knew that there was safety in numbers, so he brought each of them in separately for some private intimidation. True to form, Ginny had been a firebrand, practically spitting in his face. He tried to subtly impress upon her that her wellbeing depended upon her laying low and not attracting attention to herself. However, Gryffindors often missed anything less subtle than a brick to the head. Snape knew all about her supposedly secret fling with Potter. She had better tone it down a bit, lest other undesirables put two and two together.

Luna was next. It was at least easier to speak to this one, but the conversation was much more unsettling. She serenely listened to his angry rant, and then replied, "A reed will bend where an oak tree will break. Yet the youngest and must supple twigs will snap if bent too far." He stood stock still, blinking, as she calmly stood and walked out of his office.

"Rubbish and poppycock!" Phineas spluttered from his portrait. "That girl is as loony as her nickname! And she dared to walk out before she was dismissed! I don't know what the hat was thinking, but she's no Ravenclaw."

"No," Severus said slowly. "She thinks differently from the rest of us, but she is indeed a Ravenclaw. She was referring to Aesop's Fable of the oak tree and the reed. I wish her to be like the reed and bow to the forces around her while avoiding harm. Her Gryffindor cohorts are like the oak that stands firm and defiant against the wind. At the end, the oak is uprooted while the reed weathers the storm. But since she does not know my true motives, she fears that the changes at Hogwarts will break her and her classmates unless she acts."

"You got that from her nonsense?" The Black ancestor looked flummoxed.

Dumbledore beamed. "Severus has always enjoyed such word games and hidden meanings. Well done, my boy."

Severus was nonetheless concerned. Luna had understood his desire for her to submit quietly. Thankfully, she had misinterpreted the message, believing that he sought to eliminate the growing rebellion instead of trying to save all of their worthless hides.

The last rebellious student to be called before him was Longbottom. Severus had made sure to be at his intimidating peak. He had placed a few dim candles around the office and pushed all of Albus' tinkly silver gadgets into a far corner. He even placed a few sharp and dangerous-looking implements on the desk.

There was a knock at the door, and Severus deliberately delayed responding for a few minutes. Let the boy stew. Finally he growled, "Come in!"

The door was slowly pushed open. Severus was rather pleased at the ominous creak. He made a mental note to never oil it. "You asked to see me, sir?"

Severus was taken aback by the youth's appearance. Longbottom had a long, jagged cut across one cheek, and two of his fingers appeared swollen. He also had a knot on his head that rose amongst his disheveled hair. "Ten points from Gryffindor for unkemptness," he snarled. "Clearly your Head of House cares nothing for the appearance of her charges."

"I imagine that your new professors deserve more of the blame," he said evenly, wincing as he seated himself.

"Are you contradicting me?" Snape hissed.

"I'd never dream of it, sir," Neville said with a wide-eyed expression. Perfect. The boy grew more obnoxious by the moment. Potter had definitely been a bad influence. His fingers twitched reflexively with an urge to wrap themselves around the boy's throat. Strangling Potter would be ideal, but Longbottom would do just as well.

Severus began to circle him menacingly, pitching his voice to be low and dangerous. "You must find yourself incredibly witty," he drawled. "You're a Seventh year now, at the top of the pecking order. Yet whatever will you do without Mister Potter and Miss Granger to cover for you? Eventually your little followers will realize what a weakling you are and cast you aside. Then you'll be alone with no one to hide behind. Even your blasted toad knew to get clear of you."

"I've changed, sir," Neville said in an equally soft tone. "I won't run away this time. It doesn't matter if anyone follows me or not. I turned Trevor loose in a pond by my house since I couldn't give him the life he wanted. I never meant to be a leader. I'm just standing up for what's right."

"I can see that you've changed," Severus breathed down his neck. "But sometimes change is only skin deep. The coward could still very well lurk within. I remember just a few short years ago, where the very sound of my voice could send you into a panic. Do you truly no longer find me frightening?" He circled once again, coming to loom over Longbottom like a giant bat.

"You don't have to worry about that, sir. You're just as terrifying as ever. It's just that I've realized that there are even scarier things out there, and students that are weaker than me who need protection. I know what it's like to be afraid and picked on, so if the Carrows punish me instead of the others, then so much the better."

Severus stared hard at Longbottom, who raised his head and met his gaze evenly. The boy had been a thorn in his side from day one, but at least he used to have a sense of self-preservation. His sudden bravado would only serve to paint a giant target on his back. Idiot.

He monitored their actions closely and noted that these three were punished quite often by the Carrows. Severus felt that the punishment was richly deserved, though the means were much more violent than he approved. The hooligans had settled into a pattern of graffiti, disruption and general unrest. Then, one day, the pattern was broken.

Severus had exited his office in order to share his threatening presence with the student body. He had found that the shenanigans of the so-called Dumbledore's Army were greatly reduced when he was out and about. However, he had been expecting an important letter and had hurried back soon afterward. As he mounted the stairs to reach the floor where his office was located, there was a shattering of glass and loud voices crying out. He raced up the stairs, only to encounter the new Trio of Doom carrying the blasted Sword of Gryffindor!

"Petrificus totalus!" he exclaimed, striking Ginny square in the chest. She immediately froze in place, one foot on each stair, her expression of shock and horror. Luna was next, her face bearing an expression of mild befuddlement. Neville tried to grab the sword and run, but an Impedimentia sent him sprawling and nearly tumbling down the stairs.

"Shite, shite, shite!" Snape muttered under his breath. As usual, those meddlesome kids threatened to upset his carefully-crafted plans. Albus had known that the Ministry would object to bequeathing the sword to Potter. He had known that they would examine the sword with a fine-toothed comb. He had also known that Potter had to have the real sword and to win it under very specific circumstances.

The racket had begun to gather some attention. Amycus saw the struggle that had occurred and began to mount the stairs. Fortunately for him, the castle moved the stairs so that he was pointed in another direction. "I'll handle this!" Severus snarled, levitating the three immobile bodies into his office.

He did not remove the restraining spells until the sword had been placed back in its shattered case, now surrounded by some very powerful protective spells. Longbottom was the worst for wear, due to the force that Snape had applied and the near-fall down the stairs.

"So," Severus hissed with as much venom as he could muster. "Thieving from the school, are we? Did you think that this Gryffindor heirloom was not worthy to grace the office of a Slytherin headmaster? Are you truly that egotistical?"

"No one wants a slimeball like you for headmaster!" Ginny shrieked.

He sneered at her. "Your maturity and calm demeanor truly impress me."

"You don't need the sword," Luna said dreamily, looking at the ceiling. "The dust of the ages must be shaken off so that it may perform its shining duty. With this sword, we will cut the shackles of oppression."

"With this sword, you will receive detention!" he mocked. Neville squared his jaw. He looked pale but ready to endure whatever horrors would come. "Clearly your previous punishments have been too lenient." The three exchanged glances. The Carrows, lenient? Surely Snape was joking! But Snape didn't know the meaning of the word joke. And that meant that they were in major trouble. "This time I will see to your punishment personally. And let me assure you, you will despise every second of it." He was pleased to see that the Weasley girl had begun to sweat. "Forget scrubbing cauldrons. Forget washing bedpans. No, what I have in mind is far worse." Even the space-shot Luna finally seemed to realize the danger. He paused for dramatic effect. "You three will spend the day in the Forbidden Forest, assisting Professor Hagrid with the care of his beasts. With luck, something will gobble you up and you will be out of my hair for good."

The three fairly sagged with relief. Ginny bit her lip hard to fight back a giggle. That was no punishment! In fact, it was practically a vacation compared to the sick joke that the Carrows had made of their respective classes. She tried to look afraid but failed miserably. "I guess… I guess we'll be expected to start soon?" she asked, her voice quavering. She hoped that it would be mistaken for fear instead of the effort of trying not to laugh.

"Tomorrow," Snape said silkily. "No point in delaying. Now get out of my sight, the three of you. And just so you don't get any ideas, the sword is being moved to a much safer place." He took great pleasure in slamming the door in their collective faces.

Once the hellions had noisily clambered down the stairs, already laughing over their surprisingly light punishment, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. It was fortunate that he had returned early, or all could have been lost. He was not out of the woods yet – the theft had opened a whole new realm of danger.

"Oh my," Dumbledore sighed.

"Indeed," Severus muttered, not moving.

"I tried to warn you, Headmaster!" Phineas announced proudly. "The portraits, they all yelled to get your attention!"

"Yes, Headmaster Black. Thank you."

"Their hearts were in the right place," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Too bad you can't say the same about their brains," Snape griped.

If the real sword had indeed been stolen and handed to Potter, he would apparently not be able to do what needed to be done, since he would not have been the one to take it under bravery and necessity and some such rot. Albus had been quite wise to hide it. However, if the false sword had been given to Potter, it would have been even more damaging. Potter would not have had the necessary tools to carry out his task. Idiots!

Both the false and real swords were again safe. But Severus feared the repercussions. He must somehow secure the safety of the false sword. The Dark Lord seemed unusually preoccupied with the relic, so he would no doubt require it to be housed at Gringotts. Gringotts, of course, was manned by goblins. Goblins that would be able to spot a fake sword from a mile away. Oh buggering hell.

Sure enough, the moment Voldemort learned of the attempted theft, he insisted that the sword be moved to Gringotts. Bellatrix was only too happy to offer her family vaults as storage. Severus carried the sword to the bank personally, where Bellatrix was waiting for him. He cursed the necessity of involving her, but the goblins would never allow access to the vaults without her.

They were met by a goblin named Griphook. Severus bowed slightly, while Bellatrix looked over the creature's shoulder with an ill-concealed expression of disdain. Snape handed over the sword as he felt sweat trickle down his back. He had prepared an outburst of incredulity, followed by possible explanations and excuses, for the false sword poised on the tip of his tongue. He waited with held breath for the goblin to betray him.

The short creature ran his hands over the sword, inspecting it. His eyes widened slightly. Yes, he had realized the clever forgery. But then, to his astonishment and utter relief, Griphook gave a tiny private smile. "Masterful workmanship," he said with a trace of smugness in his voice. "This way, please."

Severus sucked in a lungful of air, feeling giddy with relief. After the ride down to the Lestrange vault, both he and Bellatrix looked thoroughly bedraggled; all the better to disguise his frazzled nerves. That was one major hurdle crossed. Now how the devil was he to get the real sword to Potter?

He was pondering that very question a few weeks later when Phineas abruptly burst into his frame. Snape jumped; he hadn't even realized that the portrait had been gone. "Headmaster, I've seen them! I've seen Potter and his friends!"

"What?!" Severus cried, jumping to his feet! "Where are they?" He had heard about their incredibly foolish Ministry raid and very near-escape from Yaxley. The idiots had completely compromised Grimmauld Place, and he was eternally grateful that he had taken steps to secure Order secrets well ahead of time.

Phineas' enthusiasm ebbed slightly. "I… they wouldn't tell me that part. They even covered my eyes so that I couldn't get a good look 'round. But they asked lots of questions about the sword!"

"And how did they manage to communicate with you?"

"The girl is carrying my portrait around in her bag. She finally deigned to take it out and summon me. I suspect they learned about the theft of the sword and wanted to learn more."

"This is excellent news!" Severus looked more spirited than he had since before term began. At least one problem had a resolution in sight. "Keep in touch with them."

"Must I?" Black whined. "They are most unpleasant company. They insult you and our beloved House. It is not to be borne!"

Snape scowled. "I assure you, I have borne much worse for the cause. You will go to them when called, and you will listen to their inanities. Above all, you must find out where they are hiding. But you must exercise subtlety and caution; otherwise they may cease communication entirely. The fate of the Wizarding world rests on your success."

Phineas looked quite puffed up at the prospect of being the savior of wizardkind. "You can count on me, Headmaster. Never fear!"

Their fate rested in the hands of a portrait. Heaven help them all.

The ray of hope was unfortunately short-lived. Despite Phineas' best efforts, the bratty trio remained closed-lipped about their location. Duo, actually, because apparently the red-haired weakling had deserted the group. Severus was uncertain whether this could be attributed to pragmatism or pure cowardice. Cowardice was unusual in a Gryffindor but not unheard of. Just look at that puling mess named Pettigrew. Snape's hand curled into a fist.

"Sickle for your thoughts," Albus chuckled.

Severus made a sour face. "I was just pondering Pettigrew and his role in this whole mess." Just thinking of the name made his blood boil.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore sighed, the twinkle fading from his eyes. "Peter has cost us all dearly." The other portraits snored rather noisily, as if they were not in fact hanging on every word.

Severus looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I know that I made a terrible mistake in joining the Dark Lord, and an even greater one in revealing the contents of the prophecy. However, I did my best to mitigate the damage. I risked my life to warn you of the danger and ensure that she… they… were safely hidden. And they would have been protected for all eternity, had they not been betrayed." Severus had been shocked to learn who the true Secret-Keeper had been. He had truly believed that Black was responsible for the Potters' death, and that is why he had fought so hard to bring in the Azkaban escapee for the Dementor's Kiss. He had not realized the truth until the Dark Lord had been resurrected, with Wormtail gleefully standing at his side. It had been a definite slap in the face to have rat boy stay with him in his family home. It made Snape wonder if the Dark Lord's trust in him was waning. Nightly, Severus had resisted the temptation to throttle or poison the slime in his sleep.

"I imagine that Peter was nervous and eager to prove himself. You well know how persuasive Voldemort can be." Severus winced at the name, glad that the Snatchers could not penetrate Hogwarts. "He likely indulged Peter's desire to be associated with powerful people, and also his fear of allying with the wrong side." The old man paused. "Although Lily and James lost their life and young Harry was orphaned, I feel that Sirius was the one to suffer most of all. He lost many precious years of his life to incarceration in Azkaban, and all that were dear to him did not believe his innocence."

"Small wonder. After all, the cur had developed a distinct taste for murder in his youth." Why else would Black have sent him to a werewolf rendezvous? And though Black's false incarceration for over a decade gave even him a sense of uneasiness, he did could not bring himself to feel much sympathy. In various ways, Black had brought woe unto himself.

Dumbledore pressed his lips together disapprovingly. "Severus, we have discussed this matter before. I do not truly believe that Sirius meant to kill you, and your own actions in joining the Dark—." His words were cut off as Snape leapt up and strode angrily toward the door. It was times like this that the office became more of a prison than his sole haven.

"Severus!" the painting exclaimed as the door was flung open. "You have outlived many of your classmates. I know that what they have done to you is hurtful, but you must set that aside. Our numbers dwindle daily."

The Headmaster snorted derisively. "Only the good die young."

The year continued its gradual but deliberate decline. Ginny continued to flaunt authority in the most inconvenient and conspicuous ways. He was forced to take action once more and forbid her visits to Hogsmeade village. Longbottom showed scarcely more sense, as he virtually volunteered himself as a punching bag for the Carrows. Luna was as spacey and serene as ever, yet somehow managed to make just as much trouble as the other two. Severus found himself once again lamenting their foolishness to Albus. "They are so willfully obtuse!" he complained.

Dumbledore nodded and attempted to look grave, but amusement twinkled in his blue eyes. "Longbottom has grown into a courageous young man."

"He would be better served with a greater helping of brains!" Severus snarled.

"Speaking of brains…" Albus said cautiously. "It is good to see that he has come into his own. I feared that your memory charm had been a little too forceful."

Severus hunched his shoulders as if trying to fend off a blow. Unbidden, his memory flashed back over a decade, to another boy threatened by the Dark Lord's followers, another set of parents doomed. He had been summoned by Bellatrix and a small circle of faithful Death Eaters that had eluded capture. It was only through a combination of skill and luck that he had been able to save the trembling toddler. He had slipped the boy an emergency Portkey – Albus had fashioned it from one of his coat buttons as a means of escape should his cover be blown – just before the others had discovered him. He feared that the boy would give his true allegiance away, so he cast a powerful memory spell just as the portkey activated.

He was able to lie to his fellow Death Eaters and say that the boy was spending the night with relatives. Fortunately, the others were too busy reveling in gratuitous torture to notice anything amiss, or even that Snape's curses lacked their usual bite. To this day, he still awoke with the Longbottoms' screams in his ears. Two more people he could not save, who suffered a fate worse than death.

He had taken solace in the fact that their son survived, until the boy had arrived at Hogwarts and proven himself to be absolutely useless. Severus had inflicted casual malice at the boy, party as a way to ignite the boy's defiant passion (he certainly would have been indignant and doubled his efforts to excel to prove a professor wrong), and party in anger that he had risked so much just to save this pudding of a boy. In turn, Longbottom seemed unnaturally afraid of Snape, even taking into account his cruelty toward the student. Severus feared that his memory charm had gone awry – either he had not been forceful enough, since the boy seemed to subconsciously associate him with trauma; or he had been too forceful, since Longbottom could not seem to remember much, even with the aid of a Remembrall. Either way, his possible failure served to make him even more cross with the boy.

Yes, it was good that the whelp had finally come into his own. If only he didn't have such bad timing, or would at least pick his battles wisely. The way things were going, Longbottom would not survive to graduate.

Snow blanketed the school grounds as Christmas crept ever closer. The view from his window was picture-card perfect, but Severus had no time to enjoy such shallow niceties. As a mixed blessing, the Carrows had managed to subdue the usual abominable cheer and high spirits that came with the holidays. However, a few errant bits of mistletoe and enchanted caroling Christmas cards still drifted sporadically through the corridors. Snape had conveniently arranged for the resident Death Eaters to be otherwise engaged during the staff Christmas party, so at least the other faculty members could enjoy their celebration. Severus had always hated the event and would not come unless begged or dragged, but it somehow galled him to know that his fellow professors would have excluded him this year if they had had a choice in the matter.

Despite the departure of the Weasley twins, the spirit of rebellion was still alive and well at Hogwarts. The obnoxious Dumbledore's Army graffiti continued to crop up. Snape had strengthened the wards around his office to prevent further break-ins, so the hooligans had dumped some charming gifts of coal and Grease-Eaze shampoo at the bottom of the stairs. Visions of forcing the brats to eat their gifts flashed in his mind. Perhaps he should suggest that to the Carrows for their next round of punishments.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the students clambered eagerly aboard the Hogwarts Express for the holidays. Only a handful had been brave or unfortunate enough to remain. It would be heaven to have a short respite from the constant low-level mutiny. The Heads of House were remaining in order to manage their few charges, but the other professors had also left. Severus slunk off to bed and slept for most of the day, grateful for the chance to rest his weary mind and spirit.

As always, there was no rest for the weary. He heard that the Lovegood child was actually kidnapped off of the train on her way back home. Although he was Voldemort's right-hand man now, there were still plots where he was kept in the dark. If he had realized that Luna was in danger, he would have insisted on keeping her at the school, explaining his actions as a punishment to her by denying her a holiday visit home.

The Dark Lord had been hell-bent on his search for some kind of mysterious object, which allowed Severus to rest his Occlumency shields as the madman raced all over Europe. However, the evil one had graced them with a pre-holiday rant and some sporting Muggle torture. Voldemort was in a foul mood, and even the screams of his victims failed to soothe his nerves. Severus got off with a light hexing, but the Malfoys bore the brunt of their lord's displeasure.

Christmas was one of the worst times of the year for Severus. It was supposedly an all-time high for suicide rates, and he could certainly see why. The air was full of nauseating good cheer and everyone professed to have this great love for each other and for all of Wizardkind. Even during his childhood, Christmas had been a miserable experience – his parents had tried to decorate the house and dress up a bit but it eventually degenerated into a screaming match. For him, Christmas usually ended with him sobbing underneath his covers while his mother threw things and his father stormed out for a drink. Small wonder that he had preferred to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays – as long as the bullying Gryffies went, it was a garden of delights.

This particular Christmas found Severus lounging in his armchair, enjoying a remarkably delicious vintage of wine. A gift from Lucius, as a matter of fact. A few of the established Slytherin families had recognized the value of having a Headmaster of their House and had sent him some lovely presents. It was a nice icing on a rather bitter cake. Christmas had, in fact, become even worse as the years went on. He had spent a few splendid Christmases with Lily, having fled his house when the screaming began. When they'd had their falling out, Lucius had stepped in to fill the void. The Malfoy scion had been looking to recruit him to the Death Eaters, and Severus was all too willing to join. Lucius had been one of the few people who genuinely appreciated his intelligence and wit, and visiting Malfoy Manor for the holidays had been like a fairytale dream come true – the opulent surroundings and highbrow conversation had made him feel transformed from a frog to a prince… so to speak.

Those years were a bright spot in a bleak parade of Yuletide despair. Albus had always dragged him to the bloody staff party and the cursed meals with students who stayed for the holidays, but the holy day itself was his. He preferred to spend it sitting alone in the dark. No holiday cheer dared cross his threshold.

This Christmas was shaping up to be the worst of the worst. He hardly would have thought that was possible. Last Christmas was spent in silent misery, allowing his coworkers to cavort around him as he pondered the terrible deed that he was honor-bound to commit. He had appreciated the joy but could not partake of it. Let the others enjoy their fun while they still could. And where did things stand this year? Let's see – Albus was dead by his hand, Voldemort controlled puppets at the ministry and was running roughshod all over Europe in search of some undefeatable weapon, the Hogwarts students were taught daily lessons in torture and suffering, and he was reviled in general. And, oh yes, the boy that he had fought so hard to protect had nearly been killed the day before. Whatever had possessed the idiot to turn up at Godric's Hollow? Any fool could have predicted that the Dark Lord would have spies waiting for him. He had hoped that at least Granger would have had a modicum of common sense. The brat's foolishness had nearly doomed them all. If the boy died before doing "what needed to be done", then there was no hope and everything that Snape had done would have been for nothing.

He spent a very long time that night staring out the window onto the snowy grounds. Funny how new-fallen snow tended to coat the world and make it seem clean and bright and new. It was as if the world had been washed of its sins. The false beauty made his heart ache. For once, his hyper-vigilance failed him. Minerva observed the still figure watching the snow fall, her own face an unreadable mask.

The next day found Severus nursing a hangover in his office. He had a large stock of potion to cure such ills, but he still had a lingering headache and sour stomach. Phineas was out of his frame, once again keeping an ear on the vagrant Gryffindors. Black complained about the futile task, but he was nonetheless glad to be useful. It was a long shot, but Snape fervently hoped that the two would somehow slip in their security preparations and give a clue as to their whereabouts. Perhaps the holiday had brought him some luck, for Phineas raced back into his portrait. "Headmaster! They are camping in the forest of Dean! The Mudblood—"

Severus winced. "Do not use that word!"

"—the Granger girl, then, mentioned the place as she opened the bag and I heard her!"

At last, a break! "Good. Very good!" Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed. "Now, Severus, the sword! Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valor – and he must not know that you give it! If Voldemort should read Harry's mind and see you acting for him—"

"I know," the Slytherin headmaster curtly interrupted. Really, did Albus think that he had not considered all the possible risks involved? Honestly, there had been just as much danger when he had tried to teach the thick-skulled boy Occlumency all those years ago. As if Potter would accept any help from him now!

He tugged at the side of Dumbledore's portrait, which swung forward obligingly. Concealed in a hidden cavity was the true sword of Gryffindor. Albus had served as a fitting guard, right beneath the noses of Voldemort and the ministry.

"And you still aren't going to tell me why it's so important to give Potter the sword?" he asked as he threw on his traveling cloak. It would be nice to know exactly why he was risking his neck on a fool's errand.

"No, I don't think so," Dumbledore said mildly. No surprise there. The man was determined to take his secrets to the grave and beyond. "He will know what to do with it. And Severus, be very careful, they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley's mishap—." As if his own murder was just a trifle that Potter would brush aside.

Severus turned at the door. "Don't worry, Dumbledore," he said coolly. "I have a plan…." 'And thank you so much for leaving the how for me to figure out, as well as the why.' He closed the door, wondering when he would do so for the last time. That day could not come soon enough.

He thought about casting an invisibility charm as he headed outdoors. No need to attract any undue attention, even if the castle was virtually deserted. However, he was the master of hiding in the shadows, as hundreds of chagrined students caught out of their beds after curfew could attest. Once he was beyond the castle boundaries, he Apparated to the place that Phineas had mentioned. He looked around but could find no sign that anyone had been there recently. The light dusting of snow would have concealed any telltale tracks. He felt a grudging sense of admiration – if Potter and Granger were indeed here, then their protective and concealing spells were impressive.

He looked around for a way to dispose of the sword. Need and valor… Potter undoubtedly had a need for the sword, but to be taken under valor necessitated that the boy endanger himself. He finally spotted a frozen pool. Perfect. He melted the ice just enough to levitate the sword in, then promptly refroze it.

'Well, here goes nothing.' He prayed that this would work. He summoned all of his suppressed love and fond recollections for Lily, while trying to hold his many unhappy memories at bay. Concentrating and drawing from the depths of his soul, he then lifted his wand and cast a wordless spell. A magnificent silver doe erupted from its tip and stepped lightly through the woods. If he could not go to Potter, then Potter would come to him.

The doe crept forward, and he felt strangely certain that Potter had spotted it. Although he could not see the boy, he felt a strange connection. He and the boy were united by their affection for Lily, who had in turn cared for them both… although not enough to prevent Severus' spiral into the Dark. He directed the doe away from its current spot and towards the frozen pool where the sword was submerged. "No!" Potter cried, his voice cracking from disuse. "Come back!"

'Foolish boy,' Severus thought. How could he be certain that this was not a trap? There could be hundreds of Death Eaters lying in wait. Yet there was something so pure about the Patronus, borne of love, that was reassuring to them both. He could scarcely believe that something as ugly and tainted as himself could produce a Patronus of such beauty and light.

Potter walked quickly after the apparition, as if afraid to lose her. Now that he had stepped outside the immediate circle of protection, he was clearly visible. The Patronus moved lightly through the snow without leaving a single mark. Potter, however, left very obvious footprints. Fortunately, the light snowfall would soon cover the evidence of human presence.

Finally they had reached the vicinity of the small pool. The Patronus halted and turned her head towards the following boy. This absolute stillness and seclusion of the night had no doubt brought these strange feelings. Severus found himself wanting to speak to the boy through the Patronus, to somehow reach out to another soul who was no doubt also suffering under the burden of Albus' terrible legacy. But to speak would shatter the fragile peace and ruin all of his carefully-laid plans. Harry broke into a run, desperate to catch the doe, maybe touch it, and certainly to speak to it. His lips parted, but at that moment the Patronus vanished. It had done its job. Severus felt an inexplicable sorrow. This may very well be the last time he cast the Patronus charm.

Severus ducked behind two large oak trees and observed. Potter blinked a few times, no doubt trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. At least the boy had a few shreds of common sense as he looked around, preparing for any possible attack.

A glint caught Potter's eye, and he whirled around to examine the frozen pool. Yes… that's right, look closer. The item that you have so feverishly sought has come to you, borne by the one that you call enemy. The one to whom you owe your life ten times over.

Snape pulled back slightly as Potter's lit wand played around his surroundings. It would not due to be caught at this juncture. Fortunately, the boy was as unobservant as usual. The Headmaster observed as Potter made several futile attempts to extract the sword. Finally, he abandoned his patently foolish efforts and began to strip. Granger's heating charms were obviously not sufficient to ward off the significant chill, for Potter was wearing many layers of clothing. He himself hoped to return to the castle soon, since the tip of his nose was already frozen. An owl hooted, causing Severus to startle. He placed a steadying hand on the tree trunk as he tried to calm the wild beating of his heart. He had been in much more dangerous situations, but so much was riding on this outcome.

Finally Potter stood shivering in the frigid night air, clad only in his skivvies. A well-placed spell cracked open the ice. The boy had better hurry; otherwise he would soon feel frostbite. Severus shifted his feet, trying to keep the blood flowing. Finally, Potter laid his lit wand down by the edge of the pool and looked reluctantly into its icy depths. Then, like a true Gryffindor, he jumped.

Snape watched in nervous anticipation as Potter gasped for air, trembling violently. The frigid water must have been a terrible shock to his system. After a few moments of hesitation, he dove into the depths of the lake. He seemed to struggle against the unbearable cold as numb fingers closed around the sword hilt. Severus exhaled sharply as Potter began to pull upward.

His relief was premature, for something was holding Potter back. The boy thrashed wildly, clawing at his neck. It was then that Snape noticed the chain that was wound around his throat. The foolish boy should have removed it before taking his moonlit swim. To have come all this way, only to choke on a tangled necklace…! But as he watched, Severus realized that this was no ordinary necklace. The chain seemed to actively be trying to kill Potter. What was that unnatural thing?! And if it was so dangerous, why was Potter wearing it?

He winced as Potter impacted with the rocky side of the pool. His struggles slowed as his limbs became leaden. He was drowning. Severus cursed. Need and valor be damned. He could not let the boy die like this, not after the sacrifices that they both had made. He stepped forward and prepared to leave the shelter of the trees.

A red-haired blur rushed by him and wrapped its arms around the struggling figure, pulling Potter to safety. The nearly-drowned form lay limply on the ground, passed out. Almost as an afterthought, he plucked the sword from the icy water. Severus was surprised to see the Weasley boy – Phineas had mention that the boy had abandoned his friends – but he was never so glad to see the useless red-head. Ron busied himself by hacking at the locket that strangled his friend until the chain gave way.

Realizing that there was no more that he could do, Severus cast a Muffliato spell and Apparated away. The wrong Gryffindor had retrieved the sword, but that was out of his hands. Hopefully Weasley could help Potter carry out Dumbledore's mysterious task. Not to be outdone by their record of outstanding stupidity, the trio was nearly captured by Death Eaters several days later while visiting that crank Xeno Lovegood. If he ever saw them in person, he would personally thrash them for nearly making his efforts worthless.

New Year's arrived a few scant days later. Relief over the delivery of the sword after months of quiet agonizing had left him feeling wrung out. This holiday was almost as depressing as Christmas, with everyone hugging and kissing and celebrating the fresh start that a new year could bring. Severus had always fled to the shelter of his quarters before the clock struck midnight. This year he would celebrate in his own style, undisturbed. He had always enjoyed his solitude, annoyed by the mindless nattering of student and professor alike. But it had proved to be a mixed blessing this year – he needed his space to ruminate on stratagems and maintaining his cover, but at the same time he found that he occasionally missed a bit of company. Liquor would be his only companion tonight.

Lucie the house-elf Apparated into the Headmaster's quarters with a loud crack. She had been in charge of maintaining Snape's living quarters and work area ever since he had started working at the school. She found her 'master' to be curt but not unkind. Since she occasionally had to assist with broken glass and potion spills, she had been given specialized training in hazardous materials and potion interaction. Before Dumbledore's death, he had summoned her. He told her that Lucie was a good elf. Master Snape might be under stress next year and need Lucie, though Master Snape might not realize it.

Lucie must be bringing Master his meals when he did not eat. Lucie must fix things and clean up if Master got angry and threw things. She also must talk to Master if Master seemed lonely. Master only talked to the portraits these days. Others talked to Master but their words were mean. Master did not say much, but he talked more to Lucie than before.

Master was now slumped over his armchair, the reek of alcohol permeating the air. A shattered wineglass lay below his limp hand. Faint strains of Auld Lang Syne played over the wireless. Lucie tutted as she surveyed Master's pale face, lax in unconsciousness. Wine was bad for Master. Lucie wanted to hide wine but would make Master angry. Lucie wanted to put water in the wine but Master would know. Master was good with drinks and potions. But Lucie would care for Master when Master had had too much.

A quick bit of magic cleared the shattered glass and empty bottles. Lucie removed Master's clothes and levitated him into bed. Master usually wore a nightshirt. Lucie could put on the nightshirt. Should Lucie? No, Master did not like to be touched. If Master woke, Master could put on nightgown.

Lucie laid a freshly-laundered and folded nightshirt on his nightstand, next to the hangover remedy that Snape had had the forethought to prepare. Little elf hands pulled the bed sheet higher, tucking in the comatose figure. "You be sleeping well, Master!" she trilled as she Apparated away.

Despite the respite, the holidays had done precious little to lift Snape's spirits. The return of the students and staff to the school resulted in an even bleaker demeanor. Fortunately, no one found Snape's broodings to be at all out of the ordinary. Today Severus chose to take his frustration out on a set of invoices, scrawling on them so savagely that his quill tore the parchment.

Dumbledore watched in amusement from his position behind Snape's chair. "Happy Birthday, Severus," he said softly.

Severus froze, every muscle tensing. "I wish you had not reminded me. I had managed to forget."

"Come now, birthdays are a time of celebration. I had about 150 of them and enjoyed every one."

"Lucky you," Severus said sardonically, glaring over his shoulder. "Mine have never been anything to celebrate. With luck, this one will be the last." He turned away, missing Albus' stricken expression.

"My dear boy… I certainly hope that you will remain in the land of the living for many more fulfilling years. But if your time must come, do not fear. Death is merely the beginning of another adventure."

"I sincerely hope not," the headmaster growled, massaging his temples to stave off an impending headache. "I would very much like Death to be the end instead of the beginning. Existence has wearied me. I do not fear death, but I do fear that I will not find rest. Although what waits in the beyond could hardly be worse that what I have lived through here, it has been my experience that things can always get worse."

"Severus…." Albus murmured.

Snape angrily smacked the top of his desk. "Spare me your pity and sanctimonious concern!" Oh hell, the headache was gaining on him and morphing into a migraine. He fervently hoped that he had an analgesic in his quarters; otherwise he'd be spending the day in bed, cocooned in darkness. He hated the Triple Threat that straddled the old and new year – the torture started with Christmas, gained momentum with the New Year and culminated in the horror that was his birthday. Please, Merlin. Let this be the last. The one saving grace about that day was that no one else seemed to remember the occasion.

Severus heard the loud huffing and puffing long before the large shape of Horace Slughorn burst through the door to the Headmaster's office. Snape raised one sardonic eyebrow as the once-and-again head of Slytherin House lumbered into the room and then stopped short, realizing that Severus had company.

"Thank you, sir," said Blaise Zabini, rising smoothly from his chair and nodding toward the Headmaster. "I will certainly keep your advice in mind." Both Slytherins watched in silence as the student headed down the stairs.

Slughorn turned back to Snape, suspicion gleaming in his eyes. "What was that all about?" he asked in a steely tone.

Severus folded his arms. "Not that it is any of your business, but Mister Zabini had a problem of a personal nature."

Horace glared. "That should be a matter for his Head of House!"

Snape smirked. "I agree, and I have told him as such. Yet he prefers to consult me on such matters. I care nothing for the petty squabbles and crushes that come with youth, but there are always more serious problems that lurk beneath the surface. You see, I frequently helped my House members with such personal problems, and it seems that they have grown accustomed to me."

"You are usurping my authority!" The rotund man's face grew red with outrage.

"I am doing nothing of the sort!" The Headmaster's voice became sharp. "In fact, I have impressed upon the Slytherin students that you are their Head of House and that they are to obey you as such. Nonetheless, there are still things that they prefer to discuss with me."

"I was Head of Slytherin House for longer than you've been alive! Any issues with the House or its students should be brought to me before being addressed by the Headmaster. I'll see to it that my charges are no longer a bother to you." Slughorn turned to go, clearly flustered and forgetting why he had come in the first place.

"You feel threatened," Severus stated. "Interesting. You did not seem to mind when I managed the House affairs last year. Yet now that I have returned the position to you, you no longer want me to have anything to do with the Slytherins. It does not take a genius to understand why." He gestured to his concealed forearm. "Perhaps you should ask yourself why they prefer to come to me."

Slughorn looked scornful. "It's obvious – they are familiar with you."

"That is certainly true, but it is not the only reason. Even a few First Years have been by my office to consult with me. Do you know why it is that they turn to me instead of you? It is because they do not trust you. They see you for what you really are – a selfish man who uses others for his own means. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you. You are just being your Slytherin self. However, your preoccupation with the finer things in life tends to blind you to the situations of your students. That is how it was in my day, and how I imagine it has always been."

Horace opened his mouth to sputter and outraged retort, but Severus advanced on him, forcing the portly man to take a step back. "What exactly can you tell me about your Slytherin charges, other than how well they are connected? I can tell you plenty. There are currently thirteen students who are undergoing treatment for sexually-transmitted disease, two who suffer from bulimia and four from anorexia, three who have taken emergency contraception, one who suffers from night terrors, and fourteen who have experienced some kind of neglect or abuse at home. I know that you have been out of the loop for a long time. But tell me, Professor. What can you tell me about the students of your day? You knew nothing of our problems. They were an inconvenience to you, and you closed your eyes to them unless you were forced to confront them. Children are often more perceptive than they are credited. They sense this in you, and this is why they choose to take their problems to me."

The elderly man pressed his lips together. He seemed to cringe away from Snape and his harsh words. "Now see here, Severus! To say that I don't care about the Slytherins is—"

"Perhaps an exaggeration but true nonetheless. Ours is notoriously the most dysfunctional house, and with good reason. Slytherins are ambitious often out of necessity. They wish to overcome the forces that hold them back. We are a house of survivors. This is why I will back one of my House members when there is a conflict, even if they are in the wrong, simply because no one else will stand up for them."

"And you think that I do not stand up for my Slytherins?"

Severus smiled coldly. "I know you don't. Tell me, Horace. Aren't you curious why I joined the Death Eaters? That's always the question on people's minds. I never answer them, because it's none of their damned business. But I would be glad to tell you why. You claim to protect your Slytherins, yet I recall you brushing off any reports of Gryffindor bullying as "high spirits". Perhaps you discussed the matter with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, but I never saw any tangible results. In more mundane matters, such as the Slug Club, your favoritism of other well-connected students outside of Slytherin was evident. Even after an attempt was made on my life, you did not take the threat seriously. The harassment was allowed to escalate far beyond bodily harm. It finally became clear to me that no one in the administration was going to take action. Fortunately, Lucius Malfoy took notice of my plight and introduced me to someone who could offer me protection and the opportunity for vengeance. My Slytherin year-mates began looking out for me, since I had become important to our cause. I have carried that tradition over as Head of House, so that each Slytherin understands the importance of House unity. Now that I am Headmaster, I can ensure that no Slytherin student is ever subjugated again."

Slughorn had gone a sickly pasty color. "I…. Oh, god…. I – I'm so sorry…."

Severus' glare was unyielding. "Save your breath. Now, instead of wasting my time, why don't you go and look after those Slytherins who have not yet gone over to the dark side? Perhaps some of them can get you tickets to the World Cup or some fine wine."

The portly man stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a chair. He darted through the door with amazing speed, his whole body quivering. The sight would have been amusing under other circumstances. Slughorn hastened to his quarters as fast as his legs could carry him. In his private heart of hearts, he had feared that he in some way had brought about the monstrosity that was Voldemort. He had also wondered why so many of his young charges, including Severus, had been turned. Now he knew. Albus would say that a man is the sum of his choices, and ultimately these young men and women had chosen their own path. And yet Horace had had the opportunity to intervene… and failed.

Back in the Headmaster's office, silence reigned. "That was quite harsh," Albus said softly. "Horace does truly care about his students, even if he sometimes rates his creature comforts higher than he should."

Severus sneered. "Yes, the truth does hurt." Rage uncoiled in him, a slow fire in his belly. He had remained silent and bitten his tongue time and again as he was slighted and insulted, blamed for things that were beyond his control or that were the logical progression of events. Coupled with the immense stress of this year, his temper was fraying and he had a sudden crazy urge to speak his mind instead of keeping the peace and swallowing his pride.

The portrait of the late Headmaster surveyed his successor warily yet pressed on. "I have often spoken of choices and their impact. I am truly sorry to hear that your treatment at Hogwarts was partially responsible for your decision to join Voldemort." Severus paled, but the name only seemed to further stoke his simmering anger. "But it was ultimately your choice… as was your choice to renounce him."

Severus favored the portrait with another disturbing smile. "Choices. Yes, let's discuss choices, shall we? You're right that it was ultimately my choice to become a Death Eater. But it was also the choice of your administration to look the other way when I needed help. After all, who cares about a creepy little Slytherin? And you have some nerve questioning the decisions I have made. After all, who was it that befriended Gellert Grindelwald and fueled his desire to subjugate Muggles? You are a hypocrite, Albus Dumbledore, plain and simple. Who are you to judge me for making the same mistakes?"

The portraits were fidgeting, looking from one Headmaster to another as if watching the golden Snitch flit about. A few doggedly feigned sleeping but peeked from under their painted eyelids. Phineas wrung his hands, looking particularly distraught. Severus was by far his favorite Headmaster, but it just seemed wrong to have in-fighting.

Dumbledore's expression was somber and downcast. "You are right, of course. I have no right to judge another for the same failings. I do not wish for you to feel that I do so."

The man's bark of laughter echoed. "You don't want me to feel that you judge me? I disgust you, remember? And what was that garbage about Sorting too soon? Were you implying that I should have been Sorted into Gryffindor because of my bravery? Because I find that very insulting!"

"Insulting indeed!" Headmaster Black huffed from his portrait, not wanting to get caught up in the argument but bristling at the remark nonetheless.

"That says to me that Slytherins can only be scheming and avaricious. The moment any of us show a 'redeeming' quality of another house, we were Sorted wrong. Honestly, Albus, and you wonder why so many of us become Dark!"

"Headmaster!" Phineas exclaimed, and the room fell silent. Snape's chest heaved with anger, and his fists were clenched so tightly that the nails bit into his palms. "You are very distraught. I know that there are painful events that have shaped your life, but discussing them is only upsetting you. Please let me help. If there is a portrait in your room, I would be glad to visit you there to talk further."

Severus drew a deep breath. "Okay. Okay." He stalked out of the office, and Phineas disappeared from his frame a few minutes later. Dumbledore looked stunned. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more – Severus' emotional outburst or the fact that the occasionally-obnoxious Phineas was able to get through to him where Albus had failed so many times in the past. Severus was such a private person and kept his personal problems to himself. He was prone to fits of anger but very rarely discussed the reasons for his feelings. The release of his anger was cathartic but also concerning, since Severus would need every bit of self-control at his command to make it through the year.

Phineas did not return to his frame until the wee hours of the morning. Loud, exaggerated snores filled the air. "Albus!" he hissed, and the portrait immediately abandoned any semblance of slumber.

"How did it go, Phineas?"

The Slytherin ignored the question. "Did you really award 170 points one year just so Gryffindor could steal the House cup from Slytherin?"

Dumbledore bristled. "Certainly not! The students won those points fairly. They showed amazing bravery and fortitude in preventing Voldemort from gaining possession of the Philosopher's Stone."

Professor Black looked a bit startled by the revelation. "Yes, I can see how that would be worthy of points. But allow me to ask a few more questions. Had Slytherin been far ahead before these points were given?"

"Yes."

"And had the Great Hall been decorated for a Slytherin victory?"

"…yes."

"Then perhaps you can see why the Slytherins would find such a sudden last-minute award of points to be unfair. Did the events that you mentioned occur only minutes before the feast?"

"The events occurred several days before the Leaving Feast. Nevertheless, poor Harry was in the hospital during those days. It seemed best to wait for him to recover and enjoy the fruits of his labor."

"But you still had an opportunity to award the points in between the time that Harry recovered and the feast began. At the very least, perhaps the Hall should have been decorated for a Gryffindor victory, even if you had not yet officially awarded the points. Could you blame the Slytherins if it seemed to them that you unjustly robbed them of their victory?"

"This is something that you discussed with Severus, I imagine. I'm afraid that he has been a bit arbitrary about rewarding or deducting points, basing his decisions more on House loyalty than merit."

"Interesting… Severus makes the same argument. He says that his Slytherins work just as hard as students from other Houses and give similar answers to questions, yet they are awarded only three points for every five that are granted to students from other houses. He shows a deliberate bias to his House in order to compensate."

"I hardly believe that the other professors deliberately shortchange Slytherins on house points."

"Deliberately, no. Severus feels that at this point it has become a subconscious habit. And abruptly rewarding nearly two hundred points to your old House seems a lot more deliberate and damaging than anything Severus could have done throughout the year. In fact, he says that you may have well just gift-wrapped the Slytherins to hand over to You-Know-Who. It's incidents like this that make them realize that the system is stacked against them. Thus, they seek recognition elsewhere."

"…ah… I had not thought of it that way."

"Severus is making sure that Slytherin House assumes its proper place this year. Although he confesses that the competition is much less fun."

Snape himself did not put in an appearance in the office until late afternoon. He eyed Dumbledore's portrait, which warily eyed him back. Albus opened his mouth to speak, but Severus held up his hand. "If you're going to apologize… please don't."

Albus blinked. "You have clearly wanted to say those things for a long time."

"Yes."

"I wish you could have said them to me while I still lived."

"It was not worth it. We both have very different views on what happened back then, and it was not worth rehashing the past and straining our current relationship."

"Nonetheless, my actions have harmed you."

Severus looked uncomfortable. "You did spare me Azkaban. Anyone else would have likely left me to rot. After all, I had been a loyal Death Eater for a time. You are renown for giving second chances to the most unlikely characters."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I only give second chances to those who are deserving of them. Your actions were very brave and self-sacrificing, and I merely brought them to light. Although I did not realize it until now, you would not have needed a second chance had I not unknowingly caused you to waste the first."

Snape turned and abruptly began rearranging items on his desk. It was a clear sign that the discussion was again becoming too personal and was thus at an end. Phineas looked relieved at the relatively peaceful resolution of conflict. There was still much bitterness in the current Headmaster's heart, but this was not the time to help the man exorcise his demons.

The next few months passed by in a blur. Severus spent his days trying to impress control over those students who refused to be cowed, and to also surreptitiously divert whatever punishments he could without risking exposure. To the professors, he maintained a cold and aloof attitude, which was not much more than they had expected from him anyway.

Late at night, he thought back on the cosmic joke that was his life. He seemed doomed to be despised and misunderstood. The punch line was that, when he was trying to be sincere, his efforts were either misconstrued or fell flat. However, when he was being duplicitous, his actions were perceived exactly the way that he had intended. Snape informed Phineas that the old Slytherin had now been supplanted as the most despised Headmaster of Hogwarts. Well, Snape thought sardonically, at least he would be remembered for something.

Things really should be easier for him these days. He had spent nearly all of his adult life as a double-agent. Through Occlumency, he had woven a tapestry of lies to play out for the benefit of the Dark Lord. However, a good lie always has a kernel of truth, which made his falsehoods all the more believable. He had to make sure that his actions were ambiguous so that each side would interpret them as they will. There had to be two sides to every story, and he had to keep straight which story was told to which side. Sometimes he felt as if he was literally being torn in two. He had woven a sticky web of lies and was at risk of falling into his own trap – his very own spinner's end. One day he feared that he might forget where his true loyalty and opinions ended and the lies began.

Now he only had to play one side of the game. Everyone, even the Order members, believed that he was a faithful Death Eater. Now he only needed to maintain one set of lies. And yet, the stakes had never been higher, resulting in a strain that Severus found to be nearly unbearable. So much depended on him. If he did not discharge his duties – if he did not secretly help Potter in his overthrow of the Dark Lord – all would be lost.

Snape was generally safe at the castle from Voldemort's wrath, but the Dark Lord was becoming increasingly irrational in his quest for some mysterious object and venting his spleen on anything that stood in his way. His Mark occasionally pained him, and his frustration on all fronts mounted.

The one fortunate thing was that, stressful or not, time continued to pass quickly. In a way, he wished that he had more time to try to undermine the Death Eaters from within. However, the end of the school year could not come fast enough. Soon Easter vacation was upon him. It was a time for him to heave a huge sigh of relief. He virtually had the castle all to himself. But he was careful to not relax his guard too much. Vacation meant that he was more available to serve the Dark Lord's whim. Bad things seemed to happen during vacation this year.

Severus enjoyed a good lie-in but the habit of waking with the dawn was ingrained. He didn't mind rising early today, because he wanted to work on a few potions while the castle was still peaceful and quiet. No sooner had he thrown on his usual black outfit and frock coat than his Mark began to throb. The stones of the castle also began to glow bright green – a special ward of his own design and for his eyes only – that was set to activate if Voldemort ever approached. Oh Merlin no. What was that madman doing here? What did he want?!

He peered out into the fog and could just barely make a shape approaching. Snape grabbed a lantern and dashed out of the Headmaster's quarters. The stairs bowed to his wishes and arranged themselves to form the fastest route possible. His heart beat frantically in his chest to the rhythm of his footfalls. Although he was inwardly panicking at the sudden appearance of his "master", his face remained carefully blank.

At last he reached the Great Hall and flung the doors open. The Dark Lord was standing at the gates, surveying the castle with a hungry look. Snape's stomach turned over, even as he approached with a dignified air. Voldemort at Hogwarts… it somehow seemed to be the height of perversity. Severus wanted nothing more than to bar the gates and curse this monstrosity to dust. Instead, he held the lantern high as he opened the gates. "My Lord!" he exclaimed in a surprised-yet-pleased tone. "This is a most unexpected honor."

"I have business here," the unwelcome guest replied. Voldemort walked beside him as they passed through the grounds. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, giving him a feeling of unreality. He wished that the sky had stayed dark – it would have been fitting for creatures like them to slink through the shadows. The lake glistened in the light, stubbornly beautiful in the face of such ugly evil.

The Dark Lord turned to him. "I shall join you in the castle shortly," he announced in his high voice that always gave Snape chills. "Leave me now."

Every fiber of Snape's being screamed at him to resist. It was absolutely unthinkable to leave such a monster to run free. But what choice did he have? He forced his body to bend in a respectful bow and return up the path. His cloak fluttered slightly in the early-morning breeze. It took immense willpower to not look behind him as he stepped through the castle doors. As soon as the doors had closed, he cast a one-way transparency charm so that he could see outward. Nothing. A chill ran down his back. He could see no trace of the Dark Lord. Voldemort must have cast a Disillusionment Charm, leaving Severus with no clue as to his whereabouts or intentions. Severus toyed briefly with the idea of casting the same charm and heading out to monitor the evil wizard's actions, but that would be the height of folly. No, he would wait for his return.

Severus anticipated where their meeting would likely be held and hurried up to advise the portraits to hide. He could not predict what Voldemort would do once inside the Headmaster's office, and it would be best to evacuate the portraits in case the Dark Lord got it into his head to destroy them. Albus could not be persuaded to leave, but he did agree to hide in another painting in the room where he would not be spotted.

Severus then waited out of sight on a nearby staircase, so that when Voldemort entered the castle he was able to descend and not seem as if he was trying to spy on his master's actions. He escorted the Dark Lord to the Headmaster's office, observing Voldemort's unrestrained glee as Snape spat out the password "Dumbledore".

"I see that we do not have company," Voldemort remarked in his high-pitched voice, gesturing to the empty portraits.

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I saw no need for our conversation to be overheard. The portraits are duty-bound to serve the Headmaster, but I find their opinions to be quite unwelcome. It will be nice to have some quiet and solitude."

Voldemort laughed, and Snape shuddered inside. The Dark Lord settled himself into the large, throne-like chair behind the Headmaster's desk. Severus was very glad that he had dismissed the portraits, for he feared the reaction that would have ensued. As it was, he himself was completely sickened by the sight of the evil wizard propping his feet on the desk and leaning back in the chair of the man that Voldemort used to fear. Said wizard wore a smug look of satisfaction as he lightly fingered the pocket that held his wand. This time Snape's entire body felt chilled, as if he had been dipped in an icy river.

"Today has been a fruitful day," the Dark Lord fairly purred. "Harry Potter escaped my grasp once more, but no matter – no matter! He cannot defeat me now."

Severus felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He forced himself to find a mental still point, lest his emotions and the resulting physical sensations betray him. "Potter, my Lord?" he inquired curiously. "Has my Lord discovered his hiding place?"

"Ah, you have not heard the news. The events took place just a few short hours ago." Voldemort related the events of Potter's capture and resultant escape. "The Malfoys have failed me again. Even Bellatrix has let me down this time. How disappointing." He glanced at Severus, as if expecting his loyal right-hand man to fail him at that exact moment, or to at least profess his undying loyalty. Snape sensed that either action would be a mistake and thus remained silent.

"I am lucky to have you, Severus." Those were the same words that Albus had said to him, and while Snape had treasured the sentiment from the old man, hearing those words perverted by Voldemort sickened him. "You do not grovel and debase yourself like many of my followers."

Snape inclined his head in recognition of the praise. "If my Lord is ever displeased with me, it would bring me great sadness. Failing you would be punishment enough, but it is your right to inflict discipline as you see fit. I would grovel if it was your wish, but I will not offer hollow apologies to try and escape a deserved punishment."

"Bellatrix was devastated by my disapproval. Her devotion to me is touching, but I wish that she would stop her caterwauling. She claims to have killed the House elf that helped the captives escape, but that is no consolation to me, especially considering that it was the elf that had served her sister's family."

Dobby was dead? The news hit him harder than he had expected. What a sentimental fool he had become! Still, he had actually liked Dobby to a certain extent. The elf had gotten on his nerves the few times they had spoken, but Snape remembered him from the very first time he had visited Malfoy manor as a gaping adolescent. He had secretly celebrated Potter's crafty plan to free Dobby, and he had laughed in Lucius' face as the man griped about the loss. He had been tempted on occasion to Polyjuice himself as his old friend and hand out clothing left and right. Even when Severus had filled his head with Voldemort's pureblood garbage, he had realized that such cruel treatment of the house elves was unspeakable. He had offered to surreptitiously heal them, which had caused the elves to fear him all the more, perversely impressing Lucius. He would inform Lucie of Dobby's passing, so that at least the house elves would know what had become of him.

If Dobby had been killed while helping Potter escape, then it would be a miracle if Potter hadn't splinched himself in the process. Potter's incredible luck had served him once again. Fortunately, catching up on current events with Voldemort did not take long.

"I must go, Severus," Voldemort announced, rising from the chair. Severus resolved to use several gallons of cleanser before he would sit in that chair again. "I must go play with my new toy." Snape had no idea what plaything the Dark Lord had stumbled upon, but whatever it was couldn't be good. Could he have finally located the object that he so feverishly sought?

Despite the abysmal occurrences during vacation, he was reluctant to have it come to an end. He hated having the conniving brats underfoot, stupidly defacing the castle and trumpeting their loyalty to the world, only to be ground under the collective boots of the Carrows. Gryffindors may be brave, but they were thicker than a family of trolls. To his relief, neither Ginny nor Luna returned to school after the holiday. With two of the ringleaders missing, the resistance effort lost a lot of momentum.

This did not mean that he got a respite of any sort. The students still tried to revolt, but it meant that their efforts were less coordinated. It also made the students easier targets for the Carrows. In particular, the assaults on Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan escalated, so that the boys resembled punching bags.

His earlier spat with Dumbledore was forgotten in light of the ever-mounting pressure that bore down on him. He was a man of few words and loathed idle chit-chat, but he found that speaking to the portraits was a welcome distraction. The student rebellion and Death Eater retaliation was reaching an unbearable crescendo. "It's awful," he confessed to Albus in a moment of crisis. "The Headmaster is supposed to have the most power and control over the school, but I've never felt so powerless in my life!"

He thought about the students that were suffering during the current regime. As a Ravenclaw, Michael Corner should have had more common sense. Yet the idiot went and released a chained Firstie, earning himself an epic beat-down. Many of the students were too wounded to attend class. Feeling themselves to be rather superior, the Carrows turned a suspicious eye towards the Slytherins, wondering if they were indeed all purebloods, and which were worthy to serve the Dark Lord.

Severus came across Alecto in the corridor, who had backed a first-year Slytherin girl against the wall. "You've got an unusual surname, dearie," she cackled. "Yet I've never heard of it, and it doesn't seem to be listed in Nature's Nobility. Can't have the standards of Slytherin House slipping, you know!"

Severus whirled and focused his fathomless black eyes on her. She recoiled in shock and banged her head against the stone wall. "Do not ever threaten a member of my House again," he murmured in a quietly lethal tone. "Is that understood?"

She glared at him mutinously. A muscle jumped in his jaw, betraying his subdued rage. "These students have already proved their purity of blood to the Ministry's satisfaction. It is in the interest of the 'Ministry' that these students of pureblood status be treated with the respect that they deserve." Although Alecto's thirst for bloodletting tended to eclipse her intelligence, she got Snape's message loud and clear. She still scowled balefully but dropped her eyes in submission. The Slytherin girl scampered away, thoroughly frightened. Carrow slunk away as well once the coast was clear.

Severus stalked away, visibly fuming. He spotted McGonagall around the corner, who shot him a filthy look but wisely held her tongue. The next person who spoke to him out of turn would likely get their head torn off. She was probably mad, and rightly so, that he was standing up for Slytherins and not students of other houses. Well, what did they honestly expect him to do? Although he was Headmaster, he could not do much to curtail the 'discipline' without drawing undue attention to himself. But at least he could defend his Slytherins by professing that the House members were destined to be future recruits and should thus be treated deferentially.

He stormed into his office and sat for a few minutes with his head in his hands, breathing heavily. "I must not break things… I must not break things," he repeated to himself like a mantra. Though the shattering of glass was soothing, it was ultimately counter-productive. Albus had countless of fragile and valuable gadgets that were likely irreplaceable.

The Mark on his arm began to prickle. The Dark Lord was on another of his rampages. Honestly, couldn't Voldemort lay off just for a few hours? He was bloody sick of all of this!

In an angry fit, he cried out and roughly yanked up his sleeve, then seized a sharp letter opener from his desk. Just then a silent alarm flashed as his wards were tripped. The letter opener clattered to the desk, just as the door to his office was thrown wide open and Amycus Carrow charged in, his face red with rage. "Just what is going on? Alecto said you threatened her, and—." He stopped short, noting the man's upraised arm, his Mark bared. "What are you doing?"

Severus' composure never wavered. "I was just contemplating the Dark Mark. It helps to remind me of what I am fighting for."

"Yes… yes, very good! A noble ideal, to be sure. We would all benefit from that practice," Amycus said hastily, obviously not wishing to be seen as disloyal, but also very disinterested in any sort of mental exercise. And of course, what Severus was truly fighting for had sailed well over the man's head. Thankfully, his temper had cooled so that he was able to listen to Amycus' ramblings with half an ear. Once Severus patiently pointed out where Alecto had gone wrong, the man had agreed to speak to his sister and avoid more unpleasant situations all around. Personally, Snape thought it would be very pleasant to wring both of their necks, but he must have patience.

A few weeks later, the portraits were dismayed when the current Headmaster absently meandered through the door and sat at his desk, staring at nothing. He peeled back his sleeve and rubbed absently at the Mark but thankfully did not seem inclined to do himself injury.

"Headmaster?" said Phineas timidly. "Is everything all right?"

A mirthless laugh bubbled from the man's chest. Once begun, it seemed to go on endlessly. He doubled over in his seat, laughing helplessly. His eyes were wide and seemed almost frightened. There was nothing happy or amused about him.

"Severus!" Albus roared. Snape hiccupped but was mercifully silent, except for the occasional tremor.

"I've been having dreams," the man said absently. "At first I thought it was due to something I ate, or the pressure that I've been under. But now I think maybe they mean something more. More…." His gaze again began to wander.

"What sort of dreams?" Dumbledore prodded gently.

"I've been dreaming about Death. My own death. The first one was very disturbing. I dreamed that I—." He hesitated. "Perhaps it's best if I just show you." He withdrew the stone Pensieve from the armoire and placed it on his desk. The Headmaster then removed a few shimmery strands from his head with the tip of his wand and carefully placed them in the basin. He then jabbed the swirling substance, and an image floated to the surface.

A thin, greasy-haired teenager crawled under the Whomping Willow and ended up in the Shrieking Shack. There was a wolf at the other end with sharp white teeth. This time there was no one to save the boy. The wolf lunged and tore at the intruder with its teeth. It charged again and again, until the boy's bones broke and the ground was wet with blood. The boy's eyes became vacant and unfocused, and the scene then faded away.

"I'd had this dream before, and it always terrified me," Severus commented. "It did disturb me this time, and I could not sleep afterward, but it was somehow not as frightening as before.

"I did not think anything of it until I had another dream a few days later. This time I dreamt that I saw Lily at a playground near her house. I had watched her from afar, but this day was different. I resolved that this was the day that I would introduce myself and tell her that she was a witch. We had something in common, and I could help her learn about her powers. I had wanted so badly for the meeting to go well." Another prod from his wand brought the dream memory to the surface.

A scrawny, beaky-nosed boy stood at the edge of the curb, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as he looked up and down the street. This was a quiet street, but it still paid to be careful, as Mum always said. He tugged nervously on his large coat.

He could hear high-pitched laughter. She was there today. Once he crossed the street, he could watch her without being seen and decide if he was ready to approach her. Steeling his resolve, he stepped into the street. A lorry sped around the corner, its tires squealing as it careened out of control. It struck the boy full on, killing him instantly. Fortunately, this death was not as graphic as the last. A single shoe was left on the pavement, a lonely testament to a boy whose death would pass largely unremarked by the world.

There were a few scattered gasps from the portraits, but Snape did not seem to hear. After remaining stubbornly silent about his private life for so many years, it was as if the stress was finally putting cracks in his wall of isolation.

"All of my dreams have been of real incidents that happened in my life, but with a markedly different outcome. Father… well, he tended to come home from the mill in a bad mood. He often went out for drinks with his buddies, which only served to make matters worse. He and Mum both had fiery tempers, and I inherited the worst from them. One night something enraged him – I think I had accidentally levitated a glass in the air that he had thrown – and he attacked me. I was used to being struck, by his hand or a belt, but that night he was out of control." Severus stared at the far wall, seemingly unaware of his audience. Another dream rose from the Pensieve. An even younger black-haired boy lay sprawled on the floor as a man with a hooked nose rained blows upon the frail form. The boy lay still, as if resigned to his punishment and knowing that any attempt at escape would make things much worse. The air was punctuated with the occasional crack of a belt hitting flesh. "Toby, he didn't mean to… he's just learning!" a pallid woman exclaimed nervously but did not move to help.

The man swung his arm down, shattering a bottle on the boy's exposed head. The child's form went limp. Warm blood trickled down his ear. A woman's screams echoed, but they sounded far away. "Now you've done it!" she screamed. "You've gone and killed him! You're never bloody satisfied until you've bulloxed things up beyond repair!"

"Silence, you cow!" the man roared. He stared at the boy, who opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. The pupils were huge and uneven. "He's all right. He's just… resting."

The boy opened his mouth and laughed. His whole body shook, but he continued to stare absently at the ceiling while the wild laughter tumbled from his mouth. The man took a step back. "Call an ambulance, you idiot!" the woman screamed, but it was too late. A bloody froth had formed on the boy's lips. He closed his eyes, and everything was silent.

The silence was echoed in the Headmaster's office. Severus stared at the swirling Pensieve blankly, as if not noticing that the memory had ended. "Did that happen?" a balding portrait asked.

"Yes," Snape said heavily. "Even the laughter. That all was real. The only difference, of course, was the ending. My parents couldn't afford an ambulance, so they found a neighbor with a rundown car to drive me to the hospital. They made up some kind of rubbish story, and the doctors stitched me up pretty quickly. Father grumbled about the cost, even though he knew that it was his own bloody fault. At least he was forced to drink from cans, because any time he'd have a glass bottle around me it would spontaneously shatter.

"I'm not sure why I laughed in the original memory. The whole situation just struck me as absurd. My reaction was probably due to the concussion. But in the dream, I was laughing because Death was coming for me. It was not here to rob me of my future, but to save me from it. I was happy."

"That… that's awful!" Fortescue wheezed and dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

"Have there been more dreams since then?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.

"Oh, yes," Severus said carelessly, gesturing randomly with a hand. "I slept very well that night, and the next few nights afterward. But last night another dream came."

As if on cue, another image rose from the depths of the Pensieve. It was a young, pale witch with a sullen expression. She stepped into a dingy office of a Knockturn Alley doctor. The lady looked clean and well off and was very much out of place with the doctor's other downtrodden patients.

The doctor placed a dingy blanket on a table and bid her to lie down. She changed into a thin medical gown and allowed the doctor to examine her. The man presented a potion, and she shook her head vehemently, presenting him with one of her own. Once she had consumed it, she lay back and allowed the doctor to make a slashing motion above her belly. He held a bucket underneath her as a river of blood flowed from between her thighs. A quick spell hastened the purge. Within minutes, the lady had cleaned herself up and shook the doctor's hand, slipping him a pile of galleons. She smiled as she walked through the door, ready to return to her life. The doctor made a half-hearted effort to cleanse the bucket, eliminating the last traces of the woman's deed.

"I… my God!" Dilys Derwent exclaimed, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "That woman just had an abortion! Those fly-by-night places should be banned! So unsanitary and unprofessional!"

"Relax, Dilys," Phineas said a bit impatiently. "It's just a dream. That wasn't real… right?"

"That last dream is a bit of a mystery to me," Snape confessed. "It breaks the pattern. Since I am obviously standing before you, those events did not happen."

"But if that dream was about you, it did result in your death, this time before you could even fully exist," Albus pointed out. He was clearly disturbed by the dreams of his successor. "I do believe that there is more to this last dream than you have explored."

Severus hesitated. "I mentioned that Mum had a temper. Sometimes she frightened me even more than Father. At least his mood was generally foul and I could predict his reactions. Sometimes Mum seemed happy, like when she was teaching me how to brew a potion. Other times she would be melancholy or downright surly. Occasionally she'd lock herself in her room and lie in bed for days. I never really understood why until I began studying Legilimency and Occlumency. I cast the Legilimens spell on her one day… to be honest, I really didn't expect it to work. It turned out that she had absolutely no shields, and I was able to skim the thoughts in her mind. Before I could retreat, I had already seen too much. She had found it to be terribly exiting and rebellious to be dating a Muggle on the sly, but she had not counted on getting pregnant. Her family disowned her, and she was forced to marry my father. Although I guess she had some sort of affection for me, I had the feeling that she also subconsciously blamed me for her plight. It came as a blow." He raked a hand through his hair impatiently. "This is ridiculous! I don't know why I'm telling you all of this anyway. It's all a bunch of rubbish."

"It's clearly bothering you," Albus pointed out. "We may not be able to do much, but we are here to serve the Headmaster, and you need us right now." Oh, Merlin, what an unbelievable sap Severus was becoming. He actually felt moved. "Was that the last dream you had?"

"Yes, it was the last dream." He hesitated. "But there is more to tell. I found that particular dream to be more upsetting than the others. I know it was a fool's errand, but I decided to visit the Mirror of Erised. I was desperate for a glimpse of Lily. I believed that it would help keep me focused." Snape glared at the portrait. "You needn't look so disapproving. I know that you didn't see any bloody socks when you looked into the mirror. Anyway, even the Mirror disappointed me. I didn't see Lily. In fact, I didn't see anything."

"Nothing?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Was there no reflection at all?"

"There was a reflection, but I wasn't in it. The mirror only showed the background behind me. It was as if I wasn't even standing there. I know the students like to make vampire jokes, but this was absolutely not funny. I felt as if I had lost something that I never even knew I had."

The elderly man looked frightened. "Severus… I know you cannot help the dreams, but please do not go back to that mirror."

Snape crossed the room and picked up a shiny object. As with everything else in the room, this one served a specific purpose. It was a Foe glass. And his reflection was as clear as day. He had ducked into his quarters before returning to the office, and he had seen himself in the mirror there as well. There was nothing wrong with his reflection in "regular" enchanted mirrors.

And yet, if he could view himself in a Foe glass that he had specifically tuned to himself… and couldn't view himself in a mirror that was supposed to show his greatest desire…. He stopped the thought there. Whatever its frighteningly logical conclusion was, he didn't want to know.

Severus had no more dreams of his own death, but the nightmares that occurred several times a week were just as bad. He finally resorted to Flooing from the Headmaster's living quarters to his old room. Snape had gotten rid of Dumbledore's bed when he had moved into the old man's living space, knowing that he could never bear to use it. He was infinitely glad now that he had chosen to purchase a new bed, rather than move his old one. No one had noticed or cared what happened to Snape's old quarters – after all, who wanted to live in the room of a murderer? Subtle wards outside the Headmaster's room altered him if anyone approached, so he could slip back to his other quarters if necessary. Severus discovered that he did sleep much better in his old bed, and he would gladly take any small respite that he could take.

A little chemical assistance never hurt, and Severus could brew a variety of sleep remedies in his sleep (ha, ha). Slughorn passed by the Potions laboratory after dealing with a late-night crisis. He noticed a faint light that shone under the door, although his wards were undisturbed. A quick peek revealed the great Headmaster, looking worn around the edges, cooking up a rather strong sleeping potion. It was only a few steps removed from the Drought of the Living Death and could become addictive if taken too often. A nasty smirk graced the face of the normally jovial man. If Severus found his nighttime rest disturbed, that really was a pity. Horace was not naïve enough to think that Snape had a conscience. But perhaps the ghost of Albus Dumbledore had come to haunt his murderer. If so, he hoped that Severus had many more sleepless nights.

The Carrows continued their reign of terror. With Weasley and Lovegood out of the way, Longbottom became the next logical target. The boy was either too foolish to realize the danger or too stupid to stop what he was doing, and his reward was an attack on his grandmother. This time, the joke was on the Death Eaters. Severus would have worn pink for a week, just for the privilege of watching the grandmother turn the tables on the hapless men who attacked her.

Of course, this put Longbottom in even greater danger. Severus found a way to discuss the boy's fate with the Carrows, with some of the boy's cohorts lurking around the corner. Showing the first ounce of sense all year, Longbottom went into hiding. A few others disappeared soon afterward. It did not take a genius to realize where they were hiding. Severus well remembered the to-do after Dumbledore's Army was exposed. Snape had actually discovered the Room of Requirement during his student years – for him, it had been a small room, barely wider than a closet, but it had been a wonderful refuge. Trust Potter to ruin even this. Nonetheless, the room was probably the most secure place in the castle to hide. He tested the room and found that he could not gain entrance. Whatever Longbottom had done, it was effective. As Headmaster, he might have gotten the castle to bend to his will. Instead, he used his influence to increase the security precautions, so that the students that sought refuge would be safe. It felt good to be doing something constructive to protect their worthless hides. He wondered how they'd get food – it would be a bit obvious if the house elves started raiding the kitchen. Well, the fugitives would need to figure that one out for themselves.

Meanwhile, the Carrows became more abusive by the day, and the number of students in class began to dwindle. Severus fought to keep control while the entire situation unraveled. He felt that the finale was rapidly approaching, but he feared that things might reach a crisis pitch before it could come to pass. Meals had always taken a backseat in importance, but he now found eating to be nearly impossible. His stomach was constantly in knots, and he drank antacid potions as if they were water. Lucie had taken to bringing dry toast and bland, unseasoned cuisine.

Severus entered his office after an especially nerve-wracking night. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothing looked a bit rumpled, as if he had slept in them or perhaps had not slept at all. "Headmaster!" a portrait exclaimed. "Your hair!"

Snape glared indignantly at the portrait. "If you are looking to insult my appearance, I have heard much worse from much better."

"Severus," Dumbledore said in a quiet but firm tone, "look in the mirror."

Lovely. Another bloody mirror. Severus had made a pointed attempt to avoid them in recent weeks. He was not about to look at the Foe glass again, but there were a number of shiny and reflective objects that should do nicely. He held up a flat metal disc-shaped object and gazed into it. His eyes grew wide, and he stared. His free hand stole up to finger a lock of hair.

"It makes you look distinguished," Phineas declared.

"Nonsense! I look like a bloody skunk!" A forelock of hair had gone pure white, contrasting starkly with his usual greasy black strands. He had heard tales of hair turning white or grey from stress or fear, but he had always dismissed it as rubbish.

"What's a skunk?" a random voice called out.

"I must brew a dye. I refuse to let anyone see me like this." He must remain in control. Any physical manifestation of his inner turmoil could not be allowed. He vowed to ruthlessly stamp out any other signs of weaknesses that dared to raise their head.

He maintained a picture of rigid and unbending control through the next few weeks. His façade was everything. His control was sorely tested when Voldemort finally chose to reveal that which he had so ardently sought throughout the year… and finally found at the grounds of Hogwarts. "The Elder Wand!" he proclaimed. "The Deathstick. It has come to its rightful master, at last. With this, there is no prayer of resistance!" This announcement was met with cheers. Severus forced his face to beam with pride and admiration for his master. He knew that the Dark Lord was watching him closely and knew that Snape knew of the wand's origins. It was a wand that he had seen countless of times. Dumbledore's wand. Now he knew why Voldemort had suddenly arrived that day. Oh heavens above.

Severus did not even remove his traveling cloak as he rushed into his office. "Albus!" he exclaimed. "Albus, wake up, damn you!" The one time he actually needed the old man, and he was taking a siesta. The portrait finally stirred and stretched. "Albus, he's got your wand!"

"Ah, do you mean Voldemort?" Snape was certain that Dumbledore said the name just to make him cringe.

"Yes, the Dark Lord!" he spat. "He violated your tomb and stole your wand from your cold, lifeless hands! Does that not mean anything to you?"

Dumbledore smiled serenely, which only served to agitate the Headmaster more. "He says that he has the Deathstick. Please, please tell me that you did not have that wand!" A smile was the only response.

He shook his head in disbelief. Albus could be sneaky and calculating, belied by his jovial and somewhat eccentric manner. There was no doubt that Dumbledore had been a very powerful wizard, but Snape could honestly not think of a time where the man had used his magic to harm others. To think that such a soul could have possessed the most powerful and destructive wand known to wizardkind… it defied imagination!

"What are we going to do?" Severus whispered. "If the Dark Lord was a formidable foe before, he surely has become unstoppable."

Dumbledore twinkled with full force. "Perhaps… if Voldemort was the true master of the wand. But he is not. Think about how this wand has passed from owner to owner throughout the ages. It is not enough to snatch the wand from its resting place. There is more required to master this particular wand." The color slowly drained from Snape's face. "You see, I have known for quite some time that Voldemort would come in search of the Elder Wand. I took steps to ensure that, though he may possess the wand, he will never truly be its master."

Snape stumbled backward and awkwardly collapsed in his seat. "No… it cannot be!" He buried his head in his hands. Thoughts whirled through his head. This was a weapon that he could use to win the war! Images flitted through his head of him standing triumphantly over Voldemort's body, the wand held in his hand. No one would ever subjugate him again! Something dark and greedy stirred within.

But just as quickly, the triumph was replaced by horror and fear. He had already made such dreadful mistakes in life. He could not be trusted with such an awesome and destructive object. "I dare not… I dare not touch it! Albus, I cannot wield that wand!" He knew that the wand would control him and he would be lost.

"Rare is the man who sees the danger in temptation and rejects it. Your knowledge of your weaknesses and limitations has been hard-won. You are truly a remarkable man, Severus. That is why I intended you to become the true master of the wand."

Snape's face was now tinged with green, sickened at the burden of the wand that he did not dare to own, and the terrible action that had made the wand his. "I am very glad that I did not know beforehand." It would have been all too easy to pluck the wand from the old man's hand and use it for his own base purposes. No, he was certainly not to be trusted. Better that the wand remain with Voldemort, who could never use it at full power. The Dark Lord must never know. He must bury this secret so deeply that even death would not prise it from his mind.

Something tickled at the back of his mind, a nagging hint that he had overlooked something. He brushed it aside. With the monumental revelation of today, it was only natural that he felt unsettled. If there was anything else important, it would surely come to him.

That night he felt inexplicably restless. He decided to take a quick walk around the castle to stretch his legs and distract his mind, all the while keeping an eye out both for miscreants and the Carrows, who were apt to take their punishments far over the line. He normally avoided the Astronomy tower like the plague, but tonight he felt strangely drawn to it. He mounted the steps and stepped outside. The sky was breathtakingly clear, and each star shone dazzlingly. He had his share of memories of this place – some good, some bad. But none were emblazoned in his mind as indelibly as the events of last year. Reality bled away, to be replaced by phantoms from that grisly night. Albus knelt at his feet, and Draco sprawled a few feet away where Severus had shoved him aside. His vision was filled with green, as Dumbledore was blasted from the tower.

_Und ich steh bebend mittendrin_

_aber noch lebend mittendrin_

_zwischen den Scherben wohin?_

Snape shook his head violently. The deed was long since done. He approached the edge of the parapet and looked down. Yes, this is where Dumbledore had breathed his last, his body flung like a ragdoll and dashed upon the ground below. The night was so peaceful and still. It was hard to believe that an act of such violence had taken place scarcely a year before. Peace. Yes, all was quiet. Even the birds and Hagrid's cursed beasts seemed to have fallen silent.

A breeze caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes. So peaceful. He opened his eyes but did not look down again. Instead, he lifted a booted foot and planted it on the parapet, scaling it effortlessly until he stood on the narrow ledge. He stretched his arms out wide to either side as he threw his head back. The wind carded through his hair, tossing it about like a wild mane. The moon was full and bright, bathing him in pure white light. He was in awe at the perfection of this moment. Even his heart seemed to stop in deference to the silence of the night. He wished it would never end. He leaned ever so slightly forward, yearning to be even closer to the light.

_Ich mach die Augen zu_

_und lasse mich fallen_

_Ich hoffe, jemand fängt mich auf_

He wondered what Albus would have felt if he had not died before falling from the tower. Would he have dropped like a rock, feeling gravity dragging him down like greedy hands? Or would he have felt like he was floating slowly, or even flying? His eyes focused on the ground far below. He was never fond of broom flying, but he did find a certain elegance in the act. He was able to fly all on his own, and it was an exhilarating feeling. What would it feel like, to watch the ground rush up to meet him, knowing that this flight would be his last? Would he even have time to think before his flight ended? Would the moon shine for him as he fell, like a bird with its wings clipped?

A footstep sounded on the steps to the tower, and Severus was abruptly snapped back to reality. Startled, he lost his balance and frantically pin-wheeled his arms. What the devil was he doing so close to the edge? Had he truly lost his mind?! This war was coming to a head, and he could not falter until his task had been completed. He could not afford such ridiculous flights of fancy.

He jumped down from the parapet to the tower floor, just as a figure burst through the doorway. Professor Sinistra glared at him, disgust and hatred written on her features. "Professor," he said coolly, refusing to reveal how badly the previous moments had shaken him.

"Headmaster." She practically snarled. "I am surprised to see you here."

He arched an eyebrow. "The security of this school is my highest priority. This area has been popular with rule-breakers since time immemorial, so it is only prudent to tighten security."

Her cheeks had gone pink with repressed anger. A fresh spike of anger struck Severus as well. Did she think that he had come up here to gloat about his triumph? How quick they were to think the worst of him. The chances that he would survive this war were less than nil, but if by some miracle he escaped with his life, he would leave Hogwarts and its denizens far behind. He'd had enough of people whispering behind his back and judging him. He was solitary and anti-social by nature, but two-faced people threatened to turn him into an absolute hermit.

"Since this is part of my teaching area, and my night to patrol, I will take over from here," Sinistra said tightly.

He surveyed her with an inscrutable expression. "Do that."

The end of term drew ever-closer. Severus hoped against hope that the war would come to a head after the students had left for home, but that would be asking for too much. In past years, Hogwarts had served as a beacon of safety. Now, danger lurked from within, and if the Dark Lord chose to strike here, countless young lives would be at risk.

Snape sat at his desk, reviewing an official looking parchment. He made a few scrawls here and there with special enchanted ink. The new additions glowed.

"Is that your will?" Albus asked. Severus nodded absently but did not look up. The document had been rewritten a number of times through the years. This would likely be the final draft.

"If all turns out well, I am certain that your role in our victory will not be forgotten." Dumbledore again flashed his obnoxiously mysterious know-it-all smile.

Snape snorted. "Please, Albus, have some sense. No matter the outcome of this war, the world will want to forget me as soon as possible. After all, what good have I really done?" A loud chorus of protests rose, but Severus ignored them entirely. "I have spent the rest of my life trying to undo the damage that I caused as a Death Eater. And yet, I have been asked to carry out unspeakable acts by both sides. Sometimes it seems that the actions I have taken as a member of the Order have been worse than what the Dark Lord has asked of me. You were right to spare Draco the task of killing you. After all, what difference is one more murder to my soul?" No, he would not allow his churning gut or pounding headache to get the best of him again. And above all, he would not cry. It was simply not dignified.

The gods were obviously conspiring against him. He turned on the wireless during dinner, hoping to listen to some soothing music as he consumed his meal. Instead, he got a news report of a Gringotts break-in by several individuals, one who bore an uncanny resemblance to Harry Potter. The culprits had escaped on a dragon, no less. The station was under Ministry influence and tried to portray Potter as a dangerous fugitive, but the news would only serve to bolster support for Potter.

The Dark Lord contacted him shortly thereafter – he was enraged beyond belief but also seemed shaken by the break-in. He warned that Potter would come to Hogwarts – more specifically, to Ravenclaw tower. Death Eaters had occupied Hogsmeade for some time, so Severus couldn't see how Potter would make it into Hogwarts, were he stupid enough to make the trip into the first place. Nonetheless, it would make Snape's task that much easier.

He fought to be the one to lie in wait in Ravenclaw tower, but Voldemort argued that the absence of the Headmaster would be obvious. Severus graciously ceded the 'pleasure' of lying in wait for Potter to Alecto. Snape gave her specific instructions to contact him if Potter made an appearance before altering the Dark Lord. Nonetheless, he remained at full alert, pacing nervously in his office. After what felt like an eternity, his Mark suddenly prickled. Potter was here. Voldemort was coming. That bint had summoned their master directly, instead of warning Snape. Severus was unsurprised – Alecto had probably viewed his request as an attempt to take credit for Potter's capture. He must hurry if he were to intercept Potter and impart Dumbledore's message.

Severus hurried as best he could without appearing rushed. He discovered that he did not have to go as far as Ravenclaw tower – he encountered Minerva two floors beneath. He ducked behind a suit of armor and waited. The sixth sense that he had always had regarding Potter was screaming. The boy was nowhere to be found, but Severus knew that he was there. No matter how well the boy tried to hide, he always knew. McGonagall noticed his presence, for she raised her wand and called, "Who's there?"

Who, indeed? "It is I," he declared, stepping out from behind a suit of armor. He had been hoping to catch Potter alone. Minerva was going to make things much more difficult. But he could not afford to fail. If he had to incapacitate his colleague in order to complete his task, he would not hesitate. He held his wand at the ready. "Where are the Carrows?" he asked, his tone dangerously quiet.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus." Ah, Minerva, you cannot fool me. I do not need to know Legilimency to guess at what has transpired. Why must Gryffindors make everything so unnecessarily complicated? His gaze darted around McGonagall, trying to pinpoint the boy's location.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder."

"Really? And what gave you that impression?"

It pained him to hear such foolish statements from a normally-clever woman. He did not bother to respond verbally, but instead flexed his left arm bearing the Dark Mark.

"Oh, but naturally," Minerva remarked with irritation. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication. I forgot."

Yes, you did, and it could very well cost you. And everyone continually underestimates and insults my intelligence. But that did not concern Severus at the moment. Reaching the boy before the Dark Lord arrived was paramount. He could practically smell him. His eyes probed the darkness as he slowly approached, expecting to bump into an invisible barrier at any moment. "I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."

"You have some objection?" Her voice was calm but contained an undertone of steel. On any other night, he would be glad to have Minerva patrol the castle to her heart's content. The students were certainly safer with her than the Carrows. But he could feel the precious seconds slipping by like grains of sand through his fingers. He countered with a question, trying to impress on Minerva the futility of playing dumb. "I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"

"I thought I heard a disturbance," she declared.

Interesting. You heard a disturbance, the Carrows are nowhere to be found, and you just asked ME a few minutes ago why I thought that an intruder had been apprehended. You're not very good at lying, kitty-cat. "Really? But all seems calm." He looked her in the eyes, peering briefly into her thoughts, verifying what he already knew to be true. Time to play the trump card. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—"

She would never know how he meant to end that sentence, for McGonagall struck. He was impressed at her speed, but he could conjure a Shield Charm in a heartbeat and with scarcely a thought. Minerva staggered slightly but quickly retaliated by using the torch as a weapon. Not bad, but he seriously hoped that she did not expect to fight the Dark Lord with such tactics. A quick non-verbal spell transformed the flames into a giant black serpent. Quite intimidating, if he did say so himself. The creature was reduced to smoke, but suddenly turned into a flock of daggers. Snape was grudgingly impressed. He was hard-pressed to avoid the weapons, and resorted to using the armor as a shield. The daggers spent their would-be lethal blows by burying themselves into the metal chest.

"Minerva!" a squeaky voice cried. Ah, hell. The remaining Heads of House had arrived, like a bizarre cavalry. Slughorn looked like he might suffer a heart attack before he even made it to the scene. He didn't know how much of a fight Sprout could put up, but Flitwick might be a bit of a challenge.

"No!" the miniature man exclaimed. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!" His spell hit the suit of armor that Snape had been holding. It came to life with the sound of clanking metal, trying to ensnare and crush him. But many years of stirring cauldrons had served him in good stead, for Severus muscled his way free. The armor was now his weapon once more, and he flung it toward his opponents. It shattered against the wall.

The situation had become untenable. Fools! They had quite possibly ruined any hope of winning this war. He must find another way to impart Dumbledore's last message. The odds were against him, and he had more important things to do than waste his time fighting allies. He whirled on his heel and dashed down the corridor, the Heads of House in hot pursuit. The fastest way out of the castle was straight down. He raced through a nearby classroom door and flung his hands over his face as he leapt through the window. A hasty spell protected him from the flying shards as he was airborne. McGonagall's screams of "Coward! _COWARD!_" rang in his ears as he flew away from the castle, powered only by his own magic. Those words tore at him, searing him with alternating rage and sorrow. He'd like to see her kill Albus Dumbledore and then kiss the Dark Lord's feet!

What upset him even more than the hollow taunting was the fate of the students. Why were they wasting time pursuing him when they should be getting the children to safety? He feared most of all for his Slytherins. No doubt the other professors would be eager to smear him and imply that he abandoned them to save his own neck. That was a Slytherin trait, to be sure, but he could bet that the circumstances of how he was forced to flee would be conveniently omitted. He prayed that they would obey Slughorn and evacuate quickly and efficiently. He had trained them in evacuation procedures during his tenure as Head of House, but that was when Hogsmeade was not under Death Eater control. He feared most of all that a few Slytherins would get brave and try to fight. No matter which side they chose, they were doomed.

Nevertheless, the Dark Lord was now at the gates. He would go and discuss battle tactics, learn as much of the attack plan as possible, and to keep any young and foolish combatants far from the front lines. All the while, he would keep a sharp watch for any opportunity to seek out Potter and share Dumbledore's vital yet fatal message.

The curtain was rising on the final act. Time to dance.

Severus spent the new few hours striding back and forth, barking orders. He carefully guided attacks away from possible weak spots and toward areas of the castle that he had personally reinforced. The body count on both sides rose, and the enemy defenses were dealt a crippling blow when the side of the castle was breached. It was then that the battle was truly joined and one-on-one combat raged.

Narcissa made a pitiful sight, pacing at the rear of the battlefield, frantic with worry. Severus had to shield her from several nasty curses and hexes. Snape berated her for exposing himself as a target but shared his concern. Their spies informed them that the sole Malfoy heir had not participated in the school evacuation. The only logical answer was that the boy was still inside, following some hare-brained scheme to win himself glory… and likely death. His father had raised him to value vanity and pretention, and to win at all costs. Both parents were now reaping the poison fruit from his teachings. She had loaned her wand to Draco, and Lucius had not had his for a year. They were defenseless, and weakness was not tolerated amongst the Death Eaters. None would dare attack without approval from their Lord, but few would bother protecting the Malfoys either. She was frightened for Lucius, who was keeping their glorious Lord company. Lucius would not be killed if he could still prove himself useful… but there were those who were more useful still and had died as a result of Voldemort's increasingly volatile temper.

Both jumped as a bedraggled and injured Lucius approached. "Severus," he rasped and swallowed hard. "Severus… our Lord requests your presence." They beheld each other, shared apprehension reflected in their eyes. "Have you seen Draco?"

"No," Snape said, with a kindness that surprised him, "but I will be sure to watch for him. What does the Dark Lord wish of me?"

Malfoy shifted uneasily. "He did not say; other than he requires a service from you. No doubt he would like more information on Hogwarts' vulnerabilities. Whatever the reason, you are in better favor than I."

Voldemort's request sounded innocuous enough, but Severus knew never to lower his guard. He prayed that whatever his master required of him would be brief and necessitate a return to the battlefield, where he could watch for an opportunity to intercept Potter. But his innate cynicism knew that things could never be that easy. He had to hope that his usefulness would last just long enough to do what needed to be done.

"Severus," Lucius breathed. They both felt the thinness of the veil that separated life from death. There were no guarantees tonight. All cards were on the table, and the morrow could very well see the end of them all. Malfoy extended his hand slowly, and Snape clasped it firmly. Lucius hesitated, then jerked forward, bringing Severus into an awkward hug. Snape tensed but returned the gesture nonetheless. It was nice to know that Lucius cared.

"Thank you… for everything," Narcissa murmured, kissing his cheek. "Now go, and luck be with you."

He walked to the Shrieking Shack, each footfall thudding heavily on the earth, feeling as if it might be his last. Strange how even the smallest detail, such as his breath or the sensation of the ground beneath him, seemed somehow magnified. No… he could not afford to give in to morbid thinking. He would succeed. The alternative, when he was so close, was unthinkable. All he had to do was get this meeting with Voldemort out of the way. Then he would be free to seek Potter. Afterward… well, he would wait until there was an afterward to figure it out.

He was not about to try squeezing through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow. Instead, he hastened to the boundaries of the castle. Once outside, he apparated directly to the door of the Shrieking Shack.

He paused for a moment at the doorway, trying not to hyperventilate. The last time he had been here, concern for the children had driven him. There had been no time for fear. But now, the memory of a werewolf with bared fangs assaulted him, paralyzing him. He felt rooted to the spot. There was no wolf waiting for him, but there was nonetheless a monster within.

After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to move his feet. He entered the shack with his control firmly in place. Voldemort was seated at a shabby table, his long pale fingers manipulating his new wand. "You sent for me, my Lord?" Severus asked smoothly, bowing.

"I did, yes," Voldemort remarked absently. The light was poor, for which Snape was grateful. He did not particularly want a good view of his surroundings.

"How may I serve my master? If you are looking for ways to gain the upper hand, I have a number of ideas that should prove fruitful. My Lord, their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help," Voldemort pointed out. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there… almost."

Severus saw his chance. "Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please." He moved closer, hoping to persuade the Dark Lord.

Voldemort rose to his feet. His red eyes and chalk-white skin almost seemed too glow amongst the shadowy background. "I have a problem, Severus," he declared quietly.

His blood turned to ice within his veins. "My Lord?" Severus inquired, politely confused yet eager to serve.

The Dark Lord held the wand aloft, his grip gentle yet firm. It was as if he was holding a revered weapon. "Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?" Were his ears playing tricks on him, or had that been a hiss?

"My – my Lord?" Snape was baffled. "I do not understand. You – you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No. I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago." The voice was calm, but Severus nevertheless sensed danger. "No difference."

He had no idea what to say. At times like these, he discovered that the best thing to say was nothing at all.

The Dark Lord began to pace. "I have thought long and hard, Severus…. Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

Snape's gaze was drawn to Nagini, shielded in a magical cage. His mind flashed back to Dumbledore's words. "There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake…. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside himself under magical protection, then, I think it will be safe to tell Harry." That time had arrived. He had been a fool to come to Voldemort's side, instead of devoting himself to the search for Harry. It would have blown his cover, but that would matter little if it meant the Dark Lord's defeat. Deliver the message. Finish the job. He had no idea how he could impart such dreadful information, much less make Harry believe him. But still, he must try. Everything depended on it.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

And he must know of his role, his fate, before he does. "But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself—." It was vital that Voldemort be the one to kill the boy.

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends – the more, the better – but do not kill him.

"But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable." Hearing those same words that Dumbledore had spoken felt like a knife twisting in his chest. The thought of being valuable to that monster sickened him. Yes, he had been a valuable pawn for both sides, hadn't he? And just why did his masters choose to point this out to him when Death was in the air?

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But – let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—." Severus was becoming desperate.

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort's scarlet eyes flashed as he turned, his cloak swirling around him. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

"— but there _is_ a question, Severus. There is." The Dark Lord fairly caressed his wand, staring at him fixedly. "Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

What?! Voldemort had already directed those questions toward the most renown wandmakers. Whyever would he think that Snape held the answers? "I – I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?" Although the Dark Lord's tone did not change, anger seemed to radiate from him. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

All this he knew… and all this he could not understand. The bizarre connection between the Dark Lord and the Boy who Lived defied classification. "I – I have no explanation, my Lord." He once again stared at the serpent coiled behind its magical barrier. He had never liked being near Nagini, but being in close proximity raised the hair on the back of his head. It was an illogical reaction – the creature was caged – but he felt as if he might jump out of his skin. He had to find Potter.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Oh god. He knows. He KNOWS. In that instant, Severus Snape knew that he was a dead man. Still breathing, his heart beating, but dead nonetheless. He felt all the blood drain from his face and his gaze became unfocused. He felt so much like a corpse that it was difficult to force his lips to move. Potter. Must find Potter. It cannot end like this! He tried one final time. "My Lord – let me go to the boy—"

Voldemort interrupted him, his words barely a murmur. "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner… and I think I have the answer." Severus did not dare speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret must happen."

Severus was stunned. He had pictured his death countless of times. He had always known it would be agonizing, but he had assumed that he would be killed for his treachery. If he had to die, he would rather it be for his true motives – now his death, like his life, would be worthless. Voldemort still believed him to be loyal, but his death was simply more useful than his life. A useless pawn was a dead pawn.

"My Lord!" Severus exclaimed, lifting his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," Voldemort explained as if talking to a small child. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

The Dark Lord brought his wand down with a vicious slice. Nothing happened. Snape stared at himself, then at Voldemort. Had this been some kind of test? Then he saw it. The magical enclosure bearing Nagini swept toward him. Severus cried out; then the case descended upon his head and shoulders. He heard a terrible strangled hiss, which came not from the snake, but its master. Severus did not know Parseltongue, but the command was obvious. Giant razor-sharp fangs punctured his neck as if it was mere parchment, and he could not hold back a blood-curdling scream. His eyes grew wide as the remaining blood drained from his face, some returning to his body, but even more exiting from his wounds. He struggled to push away the serpent's cage, but his legs weakened, and he collapsed to his knees.

"I regret it," Voldemort declared, cool and detached. The words scarcely registered to Severus, who had discovered a whole new world of pain. 'You regret… that you no longer… have me to order around,' he thought weakly. At least Nagini was removed. Severus collapsed on his side, his wound drenching the ground with blood. Footsteps grew quieter as they moved further away, and soon Snape was alone. Not much surprise to him. If he wasn't to be killed as a traitor, in front of his fellow Death Eaters as an object lesson, then death would come like this. He would die alone and unlamented. Although the dirty floor around him grew wet and warm, he felt chilled and light-headed. It was over.

No… he could not give up! Not when his task remained unfinished. He tried to move his foot to a standing position, but it shook violently. Curse Dumbledore and his machinations! Even on his deathbed, Snape could not rest. He pressed his hand into the injury on his neck, wincing as he felt the jagged edges. Must stop the bleeding. Must… find….

Suddenly Potter appeared out of thin air, as if conjured by pure willpower. Severus blinked. Could he be hallucinating? The apparition bent over, and Severus grabbed the front of his robes and pulled. Real… the boy was real. He was here; all was not lost. He had not failed.

He tried to speak but made a horrific gurgling sound. "Take… it…. Take… it…." He had never tried this, had absolutely no idea if it would work, but he was out of time and options. He focused his remaining strength and pushed his thoughts outward. A silvery blue substance issued from his mouth and ears and eyes. He could see little else through the haze. At least he no longer had to see the gruesome sight of his own blood staining the floor and streaking his body.

They were the most important memories he had – his true motives, held tight in the recesses of his mind. His secret love, his failure, his fumbling toward redemption and absolution. The core of him. He hoped it would be enough

Impossibly, the boy had found a container and was gathering his memories. Good. Yes. It was done. Severus had gone from feeling cold to comfortably warm and bodiless. There was now undoubtedly more blood outside than in, and he was slipping into shock. His hands slipped off of the boy's robes.

Death was here. He had not failed. And he was not going to die alone. "Look… at… me…." he whispered. He wanted just one person to see him -- not as a spy or a traitor or a detested teacher, but him.

The boy did. Green eyes filled his fading vision. Lily… Harry… so much sacrifice. His part was at an end. Now it was up to Harry to do what must be done Darkness beckoned, and he allowed it to envelop him. He hated that the boy would need to die, but it was out of his hands. For him, it was over. He could finally rest in peace.

--

_Und ich steh bebend mittendrin_

_aber noch lebend mittendrin_

_zwischen den Scherben wohin?_

I stand in the middle, quaking  
but still alive in the middle of it all  
Where between the shards?

_Ich mach die Augen zu_

_und lasse mich fallen_

_Ich hoffe, jemand fängt mich auf_

I close my eyes

And let myself fall

I hope that someone catches me

Pur: Fallen

This song actually has a happier ending than this story, because someone comes to the singer's aid.


	2. Deleted Scene

Deleted scene:

Sure enough, Potter and co. showed their monumental idiocy. Despite their impressive defensive perimeter, they somehow made a sloppy mistake. Word did not reach Snape until the affair was over, but the hair rose on his neck every time he thought about it.

He had been wrenched from a perfectly lovely nap by the burning of the Mark on his arm. Cursing heartily, he dragged himself out of bed and threw on his travelling cloak. Malfoy Manor was in an uproar. Bellatrix and Lucius both lay on the floor, shuddering slightly, experiencing the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Draco cringed in a corner, trembling from head to foot. Narcissa bore a few cuts and bruises but clung tenaciously to her composure.

"My Lord," Severus murmured, bowing low. Voldemort snarled, his eyes flashing scarlet, and raised his wand. The Headmaster stood his ground without flinching.

The Dark Lord gave a small, pleased smile. "Ah, Severus. You do not shrink from me like a mewling coward. If I were to punish you, you would accept it without complaint."

"Yes, my lord," Snape affirmed. "Failing you would be punishment enough, but it is your right to inflict discipline as you see fit. Only let me know in which way I have wronged you, so that I can endeavor to improve."

"You see!" Voldemort exclaimed, glaring at Lucius and Bellatrix. "Severus does not shrink from his mistakes. Like a true academic, he seeks to learn from them. He does not cry and plead for amnesty."

Bellatrix's face contorted in rage. "I would gladly suffer a thousand Cruciatus curses, if it would only restore me in the eyes of my lord! I burn to smite all of your enemies. My lord knows that my only wish is to serve him! If only Lucius had not allowed the brats to escape—"

"Enough!" Voldemort yelled, and Bellatrix flinched like a kicked puppy. "Again you accuse others for failure, when you yourself share part of the blame." He turned his wrathful gaze toward Draco and Narcissa. "It was your house elf that aided in his escape!"

"Ye-es," said Narcissa hesitantly, recalling what he had said about owning mistakes. "However, he has not been in our employ for a number of years. The elf was defective and unfit to serve a pureblood family."

"That is not the story that I heard," the Dark Lord mused, "but that is immaterial."

Narcissa realized that her family was still in danger. "Without Draco's help," she explained doggedly, "we would have never realized who we had captured! The face of the Potter boy had been deformed beyond recognition."

Voldemort looked slightly mollified. "He still did not do enough to prevent the escape. Perhaps the loss of his wand will teach him the error of his ways."

"My lord," Severus said smoothly, bowing his head in deference, "Mister Malfoy requires a wand for school. I do not wish to suggest that he escape without punishment, but it would seem suspicious if he resumed his classes without a wand. He may also persuade others to join our cause, and he will not be able to do so from a position of weakness."

"I will loan Draco my wand, if it pleases my Lord," Narcissa whispered, her gaze focused at his feet.

Voldemort's face contorted. "Very well!" he spat. "The whelp can have his mother's wand when the time comes to return. Boy!" he roared at Draco. "Once more your Headmaster has interceded on your behalf. It is far more than you or your pathetic family deserves. Show him the proper gratitude. Kneel and kiss his feet."

Draco gave an undignified squawk, shooting Snape a filthy look, as if the man had spat at him instead of arranging for access to a wand. Severus paled slightly but did not dare to contradict his master. He had done all that he could for Draco this day. Narcissa grabbed his arm tightly and nodded. The boy shuddered but dropped unceremoniously to his knees. He brushed the toe of Snape's dusty black boot with his lips, all the while shooting the man outraged glares. Severus stared straight ahead, as if the drama unfolding at his feet was beneath his notice. In a way, Voldemort was right – Draco was proving to be a bit of a disappointment. He was too spoiled to allow his Slytherin instincts of self-preservation to kick in. If Draco had a lick of sense, he would appear to bow to the Dark Lords whims, while plotting to restore his family to glory. The plotting was no doubt occurring right at this very moment, but unless Malfoy appeared to play Voldemort's game, his time would be very short indeed.

Snape's fathomless black eyes widened when he caught sight of a patch of blood on the floor. "Was someone injured?" he inquired, gesturing to the coagulating stain.

"The house elf!" Bellatrix crowed. "I threw a knife at it! My aim is true! I have avenged my Lord!"

"Was the elf not carrying Potter and his friends? If they have come to harm by a hand other than my own, all will suffer!"

Some quick tests revealed that the blood belonged solely to the elf. What that meant for Potter, Severus was uncertain. The boy had not been wounded in his escape, but if the elf died before his charges could be delivered to safety… who knows what could happen? They could have been splinched or somehow trapped in transit. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. No, he must remain calm. Potter had always had an uncanny knack for escaping the most dangerous of situations. Surely this time would be no different. Still, there was little doubt that the elf was mortally wounded. He must let Lucie know so that the elves could grieve. What a sentimental fool he had become!


End file.
